No Psychic Equilibrium
by Stats
Summary: Ichigo like to think of himself as a normal kid. Great family, great friends, he just started going to University. Perfectly normal. If ignoring the fact that every day he wakes with cuts and bruies. Talks about death, and similar dark themes. Yaoi.
1. Accident

**I do not own Bleach or the characters in anyway, I do, however, own the plot idea.**

**Full summary; **_Ichigo like to think of himself as a normal kid. He really does; he have wonderful sisters, a crazy father, great friends and he have just started going to University. A perfectly normal teenager. If completely ignoring the fact that every night he wakes up by Dreams and find himself sporting new bruises and wounds after having witnessed a accident or someone's death, that means. Being psychic might not be everyone's definition of normal, but it is to Ichigo._

**Warnings; **_Half crazed, occasionally depressed main-character, mentions of blood, gore, cutting, death and suicide several times in most chapters. Lots of cursing, and there's a chance that relatively graphic sex scenes will be written. Revolves around a pshychic teenager (should that be a warning?). I think M will be the safest route to go fo this kind of story, don't you guys think so?_

**Pleas;**_ I know my grammar ain't the best, and I'll start with saying that before I post any of my stories, I go through them at least five times to make sure there are no spelling or grammar mistakes. Unfortunately, I may not catch all mistakes, and I would be thankful for people pointing them out so I can make corrections._

...

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><p><em>The dark haired man's head lolled forward, quickly jerking back up as he blinked, shaking his head slightly to clear his mind. It was late, all too late to be in the car still after having been driving for almost the whole day, and a quick glance at the watch informed him that it was 01.25 AM; meaning that he had been driving practically none-stop for fifteen hours.<em>

_Sighing, the man shook his head for a second time, scratching the beard that had his children call him 'Goat Face'. He never really understood why his beard made him look like a goat in their eyes, though. He thought it made him look sophisticated, and his wife had liked feeling of slight roughness against her cheek when embracing him._

_A small smile played his lips by the thought of his wife. The pain of loosing her would never disappear, but the memory of her warm smile and glittering eyes no longer made him feel brokenhearted, it was simply a reminder that he was one of the lucky few finding true love._

_Caught up in thoughts of his wife, and the three wonderful children she had brought him, the dark haired man wasn't aware that he started to drift away once again. Thoughts of his wife and children changed into dreams about the very same, dreams that could as well have been memories._

_The car swayed slightly to the side, into the other line, the driver asleep, peacefully reminiscing about his family. The honking of a car horn became part of his dream, a distant sound without meaning, as were the screeching of tires and metal against metal._

_He never saw the car coming_.

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><p>Ichigo jerked up, eyes wide and breathing coming in gasps, dark amber eyes darting around in the vehicle he was currently seated in, on his way to University.<p>

"Everything alright, Ichigo?"

Letting out a choked sound, Ichigo spun his head to face the driver, dark brown, nearly black, hair being combed to make it look somewhat respectable, though just like with his son, their hair lived their own life, forever remaining that messy, careless, look.

"Ah, yeah," Ichigo nodded, his stomach knotting when his father scratched his chin, the rasping sound of nails against facial hair barely audible over the car engine. Ichigo had heard it often enough to be able to imagine the sound loud and clear, though. "Don't worry 'bout it, Goat Face. Just a normal dream."

'Goat Face' raised an eyebrow, daring a glance away from the road to look at his son, something he had continually done ever since his child had drifted off to sleep, just waiting for the Dreams to catch him in their grasp and force him awake. "A normal dream, huh?" Isshin said, looking back at the road. "Haven't had those in a while."

"Dad," Ichigo sighed, tugging a hand through his orange colored hair, soft spikes standing in every direction, despite him never putting any hair products in it. He naturally had the 'just-out-of-bed' look, and it didn't matter how hard he tried to tame it. It would always look like a complete mess. "It's no big deal. Probably just got motion sick."

Isshin didn't buy that for a second. During his eighteen years of life, Ichigo had never once suffered from motion sickness, and for it to happen all of sudden like that, didn't seem believable, especially not considering how he had woken up. Though as the father of Ichigo, Isshin was well aware of how stubborn his son could be, and if he didn't want to share what he had seen – or dreamed – he wouldn't be able to press it out of him.

Sighing softly, Isshin leaned forward slightly, silently cursing his genes. Masaki could be a stubborn woman at times, but only when she _knew_ she was right, whilst Isshin had been stubborn either he were right or wrong; Ichigo had definitely taken over after him. Stubborn as a mule – or worse – and headstrong as an ox, Ichigo refused to be wrong.

It was a shame that most of the time Ichigo really did turn out to be right, too, no matter how far fetched things seemed to be.

"We're almost there," Isshin informed, changing the subject. "First step to being a man."

"You said that when I started high school, and when I graduated from high school, and when I got my first date," Ichigo reminded, smirking lazily as he tried to forget about the blood and torn limbs, metal flattened and glass digging into skin. He rubbed his arm, phantom pains making him still feel the shadow of the ache after having lost an arm. "There seems to be a lot of steps to becoming a man."

"It never stops," Isshin agreed, chuckling. Maybe he should come up with new words of wisdom; Ichigo had already heard them all before, and more than once, it seemed. "Even now, with my only son going of to University, I feel to take yet another step to becoming a man."

"Wow, pops, that was almost deep," Ichigo chuckled, shaking his head. Most of the time, Isshin was the biggest goofball on the planet, but he could be serious too. That serious mood often consisted with Ichigo waking up from Dreams – or nightmares, it was hard to really label them correctly, even with Ichigo referring to them as just Dreams. "Too bad that _you_ will never grow up, though."

They continued the journey in gentle bickering, occasionally trading light blows on one another, until Ichigo was once again at ease, no longer feeling any shadow of pain, but with the image of his father's death clear in his mind.

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><p>"This must be wrong," Ichigo said, staring at the room he had just been let into.<p>

Two beds were in the small space, along with two desks, two wardrobes and two nightstands. A room for two people, one of the sides already occupied, if the dark sheets, clothes and messy state were anything to go by.

"We requested for a single room," Isshin added, turning to the man that had showed them to Ichigo's room for the coming year. "We even spoke to the headmaster to make sure Ichigo wouldn't have to share with someone."

The guide, or whatever he would be called, let out a deep sigh as he looked down at his clip board, gray, sleepy eyes moving back and forth as he flipped through the ten or so papers. Long, thin fingers tugged through dark brown locks, getting the curly hair away from his eyes as offering them a small shrug.

"Sorry. All single rooms have already been taken and assigned. There must've been some mistake when setting the room up," the boy, or man – Ichigo wasn't sure what to classify him as since he looked to be a bit over twenty, and in Ichigo's head that automatically made someone a _man_ – apologized, a soft frown creasing his brows together. "We've got unusually many students this year, so all rooms that usually stays open for late exchange students are taken too. You..." a quick glance to the rooms number, then gray eyes darted down to the clip board again. "...Kurosaki-san?" Ichigo nodded to show he got it right, "You, Kurosaki-san, have to share with someone from the Sophomore year, since everything is full."

"So there's no chance at all for him to get his own room?" Isshin continued, a worried glance being thrown towards his son, not going unnoticed by the brown haired guide.

"Give it a rest, pops," Ichigo sighed as he stepped fully into the room, dumping a box onto the bed. "I just have to ask Urahara for sleeping pills, ne? There's a new pill he wanted to try out on me. I'll probably not wake my roommate up."

"I'm not worried about your roommate," Isshin complained, sulking softly as placing his own box on the desk, critically looking around the room. A normal father wouldn't have cared much, only exclaiming that it was a great oppertunity to gain new friends. Isshin was not a normal father, however, as his child wasn't exactly the definition of 'normal', and therefor he couldn't give out such comments as freely as other parents. "I'm worried about _you_. What if he gets worried and tries to wake you?"

"Then he'll learn never to do it again," Ichigo shrugged, nodding towards the guide with a small smile. "Thanks for your help. Don't bother 'bout the old man. He just worries way too much."

"Sure thing," the guide nodded back, offering his own smile, before letting out a big yawn. "Che. Sorry. If you need any more help, just let me know. Your roommate won't return until at six, the older students've been told to let you newbies settle in on your own before introducing themselves."

"Thanks," Ichigo repeated, waving lazily towards the man as he left. Turning towards his father, he threw a small lion plushy at him. "You're a pain in the ass. I'll probably get paired up with a complete asshole, and he won't give two shits about me having Dreams and will leave me alone."

"There's still the chance that he will touch you," Isshin disagreed, amber eyes, so alike his son's, softening as he looked down at the toy Ichigo without shame brought with him to the University, simply because it was a gift from his sisters. "I'll speak to the headmaster, maybe if paying a little extra-"

"We don't have that kind of money," Ichigo interrupted, a deep sigh escaping him as he slumped down onto the bed. "Dad. It'll be fine. If something happen, maybe they'll give me my own room. Until then, just don't worry, ne? Sharing a room with someone is just another step to becoming a man, right?"

So typical of Ichigo, turning Isshin's words against him. Smiling softly Isshin put the small toy away, nodding his head. Ichigo was a smart kid, as soon as his father left, Ichigo would probably start planning out ways to make sure his roommate didn't come close to him during the nights. Threats of violence or lies about childhood trauma; whatever it was, Ichigo would make sure he was left alone.

"Let's grab the rest of your things," Isshin decided.

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><p>The school wasn't all that big, all in all, there were just around 1000 students, and not all of them lived in the dorms. Ichigo's high school had have over 3000 students, and a smaller place was just in Ichigo's taste. Too many people meant too many accidental touches; too many people included too many Dreams and Sights.<p>

Sharing a room with someone would be bad enough, he didn't need to have even more people surrounding him and making his already complicated life into complete hell.

They had visited the University once before, when Ichigo was going to decide whether he wanted to apply for the school or not, but then it had been the typical guided tour. Walking around the place with his father after all boxes had been carried inside, were another thing. Then they could keep their own pace, not having to bother about an annoyed teacher or student just wanting the tour to get over with.

"There's the infirmity," Isshin nodded as he scratched his beard, a smirk over his lips as he pretended not to notice his son's eyebrow twitch. "You should remember that, since you probably will spend a lot of time there."

"You suck," Ichigo sulked, hands shoved into his pockets as he marched away from his father. As if it was _his_ fault that he always got in trouble, or that the so-called phantom pains often turned into _real_ pains during the nights.

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><p>The University wasn't much bigger than Ichigo's former school if really thinking about it, but as the University had several buildings for the different specific degrees instead of just one huge building, it looked a lot bigger. Building C was where Ichigo would spend most of his time as he studied for his Business degree, and three classes every week would be spent in Building A, where he would halfheartedly try and achieve an Art degree.<p>

They walked for two hours, Ichigo trying to memorize the whole place to make sure he wouldn't get late for the first class, and then they took a break to grab something to eat. After another walk around the place, they decided that they had seen enough, and went back to the room to start unpacking most of the things.

It was a calm, relaxed day between father and son, something rather unusual for the two hotheaded Kurosaki men. Not a day went by without them being at each other's throat; not because they couldn't get along, they were probably closer than most parent and child. Isshin just had a habit of attacking his son out of nowhere, to make sure Ichigo were always prepared. Sadly enough, he didn't really know when it was too much, and Ichigo's headaches and pains would just make him snap.

Seeing his son off, not being able to meet him again for several months at best, had Isshin stay calm. He didn't want their last time for a long while to be about arguing and attacking. Something Ichigo highly appreciated.

"I'll unpack my clothes tomorrow," Ichigo informed as they walked through the hallway, four sets of amber eyes moving over the numbers at the doors, making sure they got the right one. "You can help me with my books, I should be able to handle on my own."

"You're trying to get rid of your old man?" Isshin asked, eyes widening to be almost comically big as he gave his son a hurt look.

A dark shadow crossed over Ichigo's face as he turned away, lowering his head for the bangs to hide his eyes. "No. I don't. I were just saying..."

"You're still not going to tell about the Dream?" Isshin asked with a sigh, the fake hurt expression disappearing in an instant when seeing the shift in his son's mood. At least he knew the dreams had with him to do, or Ichigo wouldn't have reacted that way.

"It's bad enough seeing it, I don't feel like talking about it," Ichigo muttered as he brought his keys up, stopping in front of his room. Without further ado, he opened the door and stepped inside, glancing briefly towards his unknown roommate's side before moving to his bed. "I figured you were tired from driving so much, and should take in on a motel to get some rest instead of helping me."

"Motel?" Isshin snorted, shaking his head slightly as he moved towards the desk, starting with picking up Ichigo's things. "Weren't you the one that said we didn't have enough money for such things?"

"Well, I think you should take in on a motel. If you drive when it's dark, you'll fall asleep and... and maybe get into an accident. You've been driving almost the whole day," Ichigo commented, trying to make the idea seem offhanded, unimportant.

Isshin knew him better than that. He stilled, eyes straying to the lion plushy sitting neatly on the desk, black button eyes staring unseeing out through the window, the toy making him think about the daughters waiting for his safe return. Lowering his hands, Isshin sat down the books Ichigo just couldn't live without, eyes soft as he turned to look at his son.

His only son, and oldest child, the pain of the world on his shoulders, and so incredibly strong, both mentally and physically. He couldn't be more proud.

"So I will be in an accident, huh?" Isshin asked calmly, swallowing thickly when Ichigo's shoulder slumped. It hurt to see his son like that, and yet the pain he felt when seeing Ichigo in those states, was nothing compared what his son had to suffer through.

"No, you won't," Ichigo said, his warm amber brown eyes hardening slightly as he raised his head, looking straight at his father. "Not if you take in on a motel, sleep for the whole night, and drive home during the _day_."

There was a long silence as father and son stared at each other, no more words really being needed after a statement like that. Isshin knew better than to shrug such a warning off, knew better than to ask more – it had been a _Dream_, not a _Sight_, and how did it feel for a son to be in his father's body when facing his own death? – and Ichigo couldn't bring himself to say anything more.

As he said, it was bad enough to see it, remembering last thoughts and views of his father every time he closed his eyes. To speak about it out loud wouldn't bring him any ease.

"...am I interruptin' somethin'?"

Both Kurosaki males flinched, bodies twitching into a defensive poses, the movements coming naturally to them after years of self-defense training, as they turned to look at the intruder, their first impression being; _blue_.

There their other thoughts differed. Isshin thought _he's tall_, as Ichigo thought _his eyes are so blue_, both noticed the male to be well built, but Ichigo thoughts drifted into a complete other direction, one he would not share with his father.

In the doorway of the private bathroom a man with sky blue hair and azure blue eyes stood, a blue brow raised as he looked between the two men that seemed to have been deep in a serious conversation. Dark blue, nearly black, ripped jeans hung low on his hips, and if not for the studded belt the slightly too-big pants wouldn't have stayed on his body. Despite the chilly day, the blue haired male only wore a forest green wife beater, clashing terribly with his hair, and had a leather jacket swung over his shoulder.

Neither of the Kurosaki's had even noticed that he was there, too engrossed in their own conversation and thoughts.

"No," Ichigo finally said, relaxing slightly after getting over the initial shock. "It's fine. The... the informer? Said that you wouldn't return until six, so you just surprised us. If you are my room mate, that means."

Unnaturally sharp canines were exposed as the male grinmed, a nod with his head having four stray strands of blue hair bounce against his forehead. "I'm yer roommate, alright. Name's Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Yer tha Berry?"

"Kurosaki Ichigo," he corrected, an annoyed frown pulling his brows tighter together. It seemed that he would never get away from the mocks of his name. As if they couldn't come up with something else to make fun of him over. Jerking a hand to the side, Ichigo added, "And that's my father, Kurosaki Isshin."

"Nice to meet you," Isshin nodded dutifully, already having jumped back into the father-role and was critically eying Grimmjow. One look would have him think of the male as nothing more than a delinquent, though the same could be said for his son. A look into azure eyes were evidence enough that the boy in front of him could be a lot more serious than his appearance showed. Being serious did not mean he was harmless, though. It were the kind of person that would touch Ichigo in his sleep just because he was told _not _to. "Is Grimmjow your first or last name?"

"First name," Grimmjow answered as he stepped away from the rest room, picking up a phone and his keys from the desk to slip them into his jeans pockets. "My folk's part European, an' they preferred the European addressin'," he added with a shrug when noticing Ichigo's confused expression. Nodding towards the orange haired teen and dark haired father, he shrugged on his leather jacket. "I were just pickin' a few things up, didn' mean ta disturb ya at yer first day here."

"Ah. Don't bother 'bout that," Ichigo said, showing up a slight grin. "You can stay, if you want to, doesn't matter to me. Pops'll leave soon anyway."

"See, you _do _want to get rid of me," Isshin pouted, his eyes going teary before he turned around, continuing with unpacking the box. His wailing following soon after, "Ah, Masaki, what did I ever do to get such an ungrateful delinquent son?"

Raising an eyebrow, Grimmjow glanced towards Ichigo, almost as if silently asking whether that was normal behavior or not. Sighing, Ichigo rolled his eyes, all too used to his father's antics to be bothered. And for once his father actually remained relatively calm when wailing to his dead mother.

"...he's always like that," Ichigo sighed, not even bothering to muster up a smile as he glared at his father, tiredly running a hand through his hair.

Grimmjow snorted, sharp canines once again showing as he grinned towards Ichigo, a cigarette pack being grabbed from the desk as he moved to the door, not wasting any time with sticking one of the toxic sticks between his lips, somehow still managing to show all his teeth as waving over his head. "See ya later, Berry."

"Don't call me that," Ichigo sighed in exasperation, already with the feeling that it would be futile. No one ever listened to him when ordering them to just call him by his normal name. Glaring at his father as Grimmjow left, he sent a halfhearted kick to Isshin's back. "You just _had_ to name me _Strawberry_."

"It means he who protects," Isshin corrected, nose held high in the air by his son's stupidity.

"Then why not name me Mamoru?" Ichigo continued, his brows pulling closer together as scowled deeply, his movements jerky and harsh as starting with setting out things wherever they would fit.

Isshin sighed; it was a conversation they had time and time again. When he had held the little orange haired child in his arms, fresh from womb and face wrinkled together in a soft whine, the name _Ichigo_ had seemed perfect, both for the sake of it's meaning, and as it was such an adorable name on an equally adorable child.

Perhaps naming him Mamoru would have been a better idea, then he would not have to withstand so many cruel comments from classmates when he was child – as if his unnaturally natural orange hair didn't give him problem enough. The name 'Ichigo' still fit perfectly on his son, because more than anything else, Ichigo was one who protected, and it were all too long ago since Isshin really associated the name with strawberries.

If having known about the inwardly pain Ichigo would be forced to go through ever since being born, maybe Isshin and Masaki really would have thought twice about giving their first born a name that definitely would get him in trouble one way or another. Sadly, they hadn't known, nor had they thought about that Ichigo really would get mocked so much simply because of a name.

His son were a strong soul, Isshin had learned that ever since Ichigo were a child of five, and already had witnessed accidents and deaths of so many, friends and strangers alike, and still managed to smile and watch over his one-year-old little sisters.

Even so, he couldn't bring himself to regret naming his son Ichigo, instead of Mamoru. Mamoru meant protecter, but Ichigo was the _one _who protected; number one guardian. There was no name more perfect for his first born, his only son.

"It fitted you, already then," was all Isshin said, and Ichigo didn't need to ask more.

He still hadn't decided if his father were right or wrong, as he more often than not seemed to fail in helping and protecting. His role in life seemed to be to protect, but from his view he was no more than a witness that lacked the knowledge to help.

"Thanks, dad."

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><p><strong><strong>. . .<strong>**

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><p><strong><strong>Author ramble; <strong>So... ya people think I should continue or drop this?**

**More about Ichigo's 'condition' will be explained in future chapters, and yes, you _will_ see more of Grimmjow later on. I already have most of this story planned out, but I'd like to know what people think about the plot/story. Maybe give me some ideas and suggestion, it's always fun to have thoughts shared ^^**

**I hoped you enjoyed reading, and please review :D**


	2. Cuts

**I do not own Bleach or the characters in anyway, I do, however, own the plot idea.**

**Full summary; **_Ichigo like to think of himself as a normal kid. He really does; he have wonderful sisters, a crazy father, great friends and he have just started going to University. A perfectly normal teenager. If completely ignoring the fact that every night he wakes up by Dreams and find himself sporting new bruises and wounds after having witnessed a accident or someone's death, that means. Being psychic might not be everyone's definition of normal, but it is to Ichigo._

**Warnings; **_In this chapter; talking and showings of cutting, hints for worse. Some cursing. Lots of mentions of blood._

**Author's ramble;**_ I finished this chapter a lot quicker than I thought, and most of yesterday went to read through and edit the chapter and make sure I haven't missed anything. Even so, as I have not yet gotten a beta (probably will have one by next chapter, me thinks ) there will probably be a few grammar and spelling mistakes that I've missed, and I'd be thankful for you pointing them out to me._

_Thanks, and I hope ya enjoy the chapter._

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><p><em>. . .<em>

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><p><em>Eyes downcast, she bit harshly on her bottom lip, tears threatening to fall any second. She wouldn't let them fall, not when speaking to him. Even as he could not see her face, she would not lower herself to show any sign of weakness.<em>

"_Of course I understand, Nii-sama," she said, gripping harshly on the phone pressed to her ear. _Do not cry. Do not cry. _A mantra repeated over and over, as always when on the phone with him. "You have a lot to do, please do not worry about me."_

_An absent reply, not really paying mind to what she said. As her brother, he thought he knew her, believed that anything she said to him was the truth. It were beyond him that his adopted sister would lie, even if it was to not make him feel any guilt or worry. She had learned to understand that, and she did not blame him. He couldn't help that she had learned all too well to spin lies around her life ever since her childhood._

"_You too, Nii-sama. I hope you do well."_

_Always the same. Hanging up, she could not feel anything new. Disappointment, sorrow. Regret. Even with the person that should know her better than others, her own brother – even if not by blood – did not understand her. In a world of many, she was alone._

_No longer hearing his stoic voice right in her ear, she let the tears fall, smudging her too thick layer of eyeliner and making long, black lines appear down her cheeks. Almost blindly she moved through the dorm room, body shaking as trying to keep sobs back, even if no one was there to hear or comfort._

_Her body acted on its own, knowing the routine, letting her mind repeat every disappointment and sorrow in her life, until it were too much, too harsh, having her unable to breath. Gripping the razor blade tightly in her hand, she sank down on the tiled floor, make up-black tears dropping to the floor and her too pale skin as the sharpness of the razor sank into her arm, crimson red lines soon spreading over her arm as she once again tried to forget_.

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><p>Ichigo sat up with a jerk, sweat lacing his body as he breathed heavily, his hand going to the arm that had, mere seconds ago, been cut open. Slight wetness had him look down, fighting back his own tears when seeing the slight drips of blood on his sleeve.<p>

It wasn't as deep as the marks the girl in his Dreams sported, but it had been enough to tear his skin. He hated when that happened and, unfortunately, it happened nearly every night. Letting out a soft curse, Ichigo pulled his knees to his chest, eyes squeezing shut as gripping his hair, urging his body to calm down, his mind focusing on his father and sisters, friends and people he managed to help.

Waking up from someone else's pain, though, such thoughts could never fully ease him. Superficial wounds followed him into awoken state, Dreams of too deep, fatal wounds only left the image of pain behind. He figured he should be happy for small miracles, but he could never feel any joy for it, not when knowing that there was someone else out there taking the full force of the pain.

"D'ya always have nightmares?" a groggy, tired voice asked from the other side of the room, making Ichigo jerk his head up.

Even after three weeks, it was hard for him to remember that he was sharing room with someone. He had always had his own room, and knowing that there was someone right _there – _a practical stranger, no less – to witness how he was taunted by Dreams and night terrors, made him feel uncomfortable and embarrassed.

"T's not nightmares," Ichigo mumbled, voice slightly slurry from just having woken up. "T's Dreams."

A soft snort were heard from the other side of the room as Grimmjow shifted around, moving to be on his back instead, an arm behind his head as he blinked up at the ceiling. "If that's just dreams, I don' wanna know what yer nightmares' like."

"Nightmares are seeing my family die," the words were out before he could really stop himself, and he winced softly when he could practically feel the tension filling the room. Stupid, sleep deprived brain, making him say things he didn't really intend to. "Sorry, don't bother 'bout it."

"Hey," Grimmjow sat up, and even from the distance Ichigo could see the worry in those azure eyes that always managed with captivate him. Worry... it looked good on Grimmjow, making his face seem almost soft and gentle, completely different from the teasing glances and almost cruel-looking smirk Ichigo had received so far. Still, he prefered the crude version of Grimmjow, the gentleness in azure eyes made him feel... _wrong_. "I didn' mean ta pry. Didn' know... ya'know. Didn' know anythin'-"

"My family's alive," Ichigo interrupted as he carefully moved out of the bed, his legs feeling slightly wobbly as nausea started to build up in his throat. Crimson spots from his wrist were decorating the yellow-white sheets his sister had bought him before leaving, the blood creating long, spider-web like lines on his forearm. "My- my mom's dead, but the rest's alive. You didn't pry."

Even as he said the first sentence, he couldn't really believe it. When Kurosaki Masaki died, so did a part of the family. And all because of Ichigo. He was too young, not yet able to understand what he saw, how to stop it – and he _still_ didn't know how to stop it, without instead making it happen.

Nine years old, and forever caring the burden of having killed his own mother.

Tears were once again starting to obscure his view – again? The first time had been the girl, this were his _own _tears – as he stumbled to the bathroom, his hand pressing hard against his chest to hide the bleeding that he gained from his Dreams.

There was too many scars to count, too many wounds lacing Ichigo's body, the main reason for him never taking his shirt off around people, no matter how warm it was, the reason to why he wore only long sleeved shirts, even if he wished to dress in shortarmed clothes. Only a handful were his own; the rest belonging to people he knew and people he had never shared more than a word or two with, if even having spoken to them at all.

Waking up with cut wrists were nothing new to Ichigo, it happen disturbingly often, and most of the time there was nothing he could do about it, other than drop anonymous tips to parents, friends or the social service. Never having pressed a razor against his own skin, there was traces of cuts all over his forearms, labeling him as a cutter.

Ichigo didn't bother with locking the bathroom door, only closing it behind him as he started to run the water, eyebrows furrowing together as he began with yet another routine; cleaning his wounds.

Normally, when he saw someone harm themselves, he would have the Dream two or three times, some times just once, but he had Dreamed about that very same girl for almost a week, waking up several times every night to see her cut her wrists and have blood stain her skin.

Letting the water wash away the blood lines, Ichigo tiredly rubbed his forehead as glancing up at the mirror, grimacing when seeing the dark lines under his eyes. He looked like shit.

The small girl, mostly known as 'Ice Queen' or just 'Emo' to the school, unknowingly kept him up all night. He wasn't sure if it was because she would cut herself a lot more than anyone else he had seen, or if there was _something else_ that would happen to her, and his mind just prepared him for what was to come. Neither of the two was a very comforting thought.

Sighing softly he turned the water off, intent on reaching out for sanitary paper he kept with him – "_my father's a doctor, it's a habit keeping these things around_" as he said after Grimmjow commented about it – when the door opened. Ichigo's first reaction was to hide his arm, and he did so, even though he already knew it to be futile. There were drops of blood lingering on the white porcelain still, and dark, crimson red smears of blood were covering the chest of his beige night shirt, were he had held his hand to hide the bleeding.

This time, when Grimmjow looked at him, there wasn't worry in his eyes, there were only plain shock, and a small hint of pity and disappointment.

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><p>Grimmjow could admit to not knowing the kid very well; they had only shared room for less than a month, and during that time Grimmjow spent most of his time outside with friends, whilst Ichigo were hunched over doing homework. Their conversation were limited to greetings and the occasionally mocking remarks, both of them being sarcastic by nature.<p>

They weren't exactly friends, but they got along well enough. Even so; _Ichigo just hadn't seemed the type_.

Why he walked into the bathroom, Grimmjow didn't know. He clearly knew that Ichigo was in there, but after the teen's words, and after having trashed around after yet another nightmare – why calling it dream, when it was a _nightmare_? - he just couldn't sit that one out. Maybe he had wanted to comfort Ichigo, or just talk to him. He wasn't sure. He just hadn't expected to see traces of blood on Ichigo's shirt, or watch him hide his arm.

Without a word, he reached forward, grasping Ichigo's arm as his roommate backed away, fear flashing in his amber eyes the second before the fingers brushed his skin, and then-

_- Grimmjow slumped against the wall, blood dripping from his mouth down his chin as he coughed, azure eyes hardening as he wiped his mouth, prepared to move up when there was another kick to his head, coming from the side. He hadn't even seen it coming._

_Yelling from his friend were heard somewhere far away as he fell to the side, his body being too weak, too heavy, to manage with fighting away the five people that were currently kicking him. His only thought before everything went black, were that at least his sister got away-_

_-Groaning deeply, he hung with his head, tiredly rubbing his forehead as he tried to keep his smile back. How he could have befriended such idiots was beyond him, though at least he was never bored for long when being with them._

_Feeling an arm wrap around his shoulder, he quickly elbowed his friend, a smirk stretching his lips by the sharp hiss he let out. It didn't last long before they were busy wrestling around on the floor, the taunts coming from them being light hearted and playful. Fighting between them had never been serious, only doing it for fun-_

_-Thin arms was wrapped tightly around the small girl, shielding her with his body, hoping that He would forget about them, and that if he did remember them being there, he would just ignore them. Covering her ears, Grimmjow quietly chanted an apology to their mother over and over, for sitting back and letting her get hurt, only protecting his sister instead, the sister that was sobbing against his chest and peaked out from over his shoulder, forever unable to forget what she saw, even as she had seen it many times before._

_Holding her tighter, Grimmjow shut his eyes hard together, trying to ignore his mothers screams of pain and hate, only focusing on his sister. That was all that mattered to him._

_He was a terrible son-_

Amber eyes flashed into a golden like color, lips pulled back in a snarl before both males jerked back; one searching for freedom, the other moving out of shock.

"What the hell just happened?" Grimmjow hissed, his eyes wide as he practically _saw_ the color change in Ichigo's eyes, going from molten gold to soft amber once again. Then Ichigo fell to his knees on the bathroom floor, fingers moving to his hair as it always did after his Dreams, tugging roughly on the orange strands and smearing blood over his cheek. "Oi, Kurosaki, what the hell are ya doin'?"

"I've told you not to touch me," Ichigo whispered harshly, his hands falling to the floor as he tilted his head back, staring up at his roommate. "I wasn't prepared, you damn idiot."

Taking a moment to try and decipher those words, Grimmjow gave up, not really understanding what Ichigo needed to be prepared about. He did know, though, that Ichigo didn't like to be touched, and feverishly avoided any kind of physical contact from anyone at all. Even the prospect of bumping against someone's shoulder had Ichigo jump far off to the side.

"Fine, 'm sorry, yeah?" Grimmjow rolled his eyes, holding his hand out again. "But now I'm gonna touch ya again, that's alright with'cha?"

Closing his eyes, Ichigo took a few deep breaths, forcing shields up around his mind to stop anymore Sights from obscuring his mind, before he moved his bloodied arm out. He didn't need to ask to know that the blood dripping from his skin was the reason for Grimmjow asking to touch him.

After getting a small nod, Grimmjow reached out, keeping his eyes on Ichigo's face as he gripped onto the teen's arm again. Apart from a small flinch, Ichigo didn't react much more, slowly opening his eyes to show Grimmjow that they was still the same amber brown hue, rather than the distorted tone of gold.

"Didn' know ya were a cutter," Grimmjow grumbled, tiredly looking down at blood having started to crust against the tanned skin. The look in his eyes wasn't because of him being sleepy, but because he were sick, tired and weary of seeing people hurt themselves, having been through it more than enough in the past.

"I'm not," Ichigo answered calmly, as he tried his hardest to not notice how warm the touch was against his skin, small fires spreading throughout his whole body by having some skin to skin contact with his roommate.

"Fuckin' liar," Grimmjow said, rolling his eyes again as he turned the water on and reached for one of the towels. Letting the liquid sink into the fabric, he squeezed most of it out, before wiping the blood smears away from Ichigo's cheek, pausing briefly as he glanced towards Ichigo's eyes, wondering what he had seen, before continuing to his arm.

Biting his lip, Ichigo rubbed his free hand over his cheek, getting away the slight sheen of water that remained, as he watched Grimmjow continuing with cleaning his arm up. It surprised Ichigo how slow and gentle Grimmjow was as cleaning the blood away. He would have expected the blunette to be a lot more rough in his movements.

"I'm not lying," Ichigo sighed, turning his head away. He knew Grimmjow wouldn't believe him, not when seeing the wounds on his arms, signs that he had done it for several years. "I've never cut myself."

There was a long pause, during which Grimmjow managed to clean the blood off completely, then wiping it dry, and finally wrapping the dry part around Ichigo's arm, pressing the towel hard against his skin for it to soak up all of the blood. It struck Ichigo that the movements hadn't only been gentle, but _familiar_. Caring for those kinds of wounds were something Grimmjow had done before.

His thoughts came to a halt when there was fingers on his chin, making Ichigo's breath hitch and eyes darken, his heart beating much faster. It would be an outright lie if he said that he wasn't attracted to Grimmjow. He wouldn't call it a crush, as they hadn't known each other long enough for Ichigo to start falling for him, though Grimmjow were definitely an attractive man, making Ichigo's skin prickle and ache for touch whenever his roommate moved around without a shirt.

"Look at me," Grimmjow urged, even as he guided Ichigo's head to face him, azure eyes burrowing into his, as if trying to read his soul. The thought of Grimmjow seeing the monster and pain inside of him had Ichigo's stomach lurch, and he were tempted to turn his head away, if so just to breath normally again. "Did ya cut yerself?"

"No," Ichigo answered honestly, hating how Grimmjow's eyes managed to keep him so transfixed, when everything he wanted was to just turn and run.

"Did someone else do it to ya?"

Ichigo blinked. It was the first time someone had asked him that from the very start. Even his father and Urahara, and the occasional friend, hadn't believed him right away when telling them that it was someone else creating those wounds, and it were definitely a first to hear those words, especially when it wasn't even a _friend_ asking them, someone that knew nothing about him.

"Yes."

Grimmjow frowned, his hand dropping from Ichigo's chin as he stared into the teen's eyes. There was nothing but honesty in Ichigo's eyes, and Grimmjow's gut feeling told him that what Ichigo said was true; those wounds was not some he had made, they were the result of someone else touching his skin.

Grimmjow had always been one to follow his intuition, it had saved his arse several times in the past. Though even trusting his own instincts, it didn't explain _how_ the scars had appeared on Ichigo's arm. He had seen the teen in the bed, jerking awake by yet another nightmare, just to immediately dart to the bathroom to-

To clean the wounds.

Grimmjow blinked, staring down at the tanned skin, wrapped up in a midnight blue cotton towel. There hadn't been enough time for Ichigo to grab a razor, cut himself, hide the razor, and then start with washing the wounds. Less than two minutes had passed after Ichigo closed the door and Grimmjow opened it, and unless Ichigo moved in lightening speed, it didn't make sense for him to managed with it so quickly.

A thought kept nudging on Grimmjow, though he tried to push it away, not wanting to acknowledge it. It would just make things even stranger.

Ichigo woke up from a nightmare, and his wrist were bloodied, when there had been no marks on it – from what Grimmjow had seen – when he went to sleep. Either Ichigo had opened old wounds, or it had happened in his sleep, during the 'dreams' that had the slim body twitch and arch in pain and unease.

That annoying gut feeling of his urgently tried to convince him that it was the latter option.

"How?"

Without wording it further than that simple word, Ichigo seemed to understand him fully.

"You wouldn't believe me."

Again, nothing but honesty showing in amber eyes.

"Try me."

Ichigo smirked weakly, finally managing with turning his head away. "No," he whispered, pulling his hand back. "I... can't."

"If someone's doin' this ta ya, tell me," Grimmjow said as he raised his hand, hesitating only briefly before letting his fingers slide against Ichigo's cheek. The hitch of breath, for the second time that night, didn't go by unnoticed. "Is someone abusin' ya, Ichigo?"

_It's the first time you called me that_. Ichigo bit down on his tongue, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly as he forced the comment back. It would just sound too girly if he let a comment like that slip out, and Grimmjow would definitely make fun of him. Or not. He didn't dare to take a chance.

"No," Ichigo answered, again speaking nothing but the truth.

They didn't hurt _him_, they never did. They hurt themselves, but he was the one to share their scars, he was the one to carry the wounds they had not yet gotten time to inflict on themselves.

"Fuck, Berry," Grimmjow sighed, his tone tired, and it disappointed Ichigo to be called that nickname again. Only this time there was no mocking tone used, his room mate only sounding exhausted and weary. "Yer tellin' me no one hurts ya, that ya just wake up with this?"

Ichigo took that moment to stand up, not saying a word as he left the bathroom and crawled back into the bed, pulling the cover high over his head. How would he had answered that without lying? Grimmjow wouldn't have believed him, or thought he was crazy and called the hospital. They would get the wrong idea, and he would be locked up, until they realized what was _really _wrong with him, and then he would be nothing more than a lab rat.

Minutes passed before he heard the bathroom door close, feet moving silently over the floor, the bed creaking slightly as the blue haired male laid down on it.

Not a word was said as Grimmjow turned the light off.

* * *

><p>. . .<p>

* * *

><p>When the morning came, Grimmjow still didn't ask about it, nothing was said about it at all, and they acted as if they had never had the conversation in the first place.<p>

Though from that day forward, Grimmjow spent more time around Ichigo, keeping an eye on his roommate, in case he would get hurt again. Every morning there was more scars and bruises decorating his skin, even though there had been nothing there as he went to bed. And Grimmjow watched him _closely_, a few times even ordering Ichigo to show his arms before going to bed, and his roommate reluctantly did as told.

The day Ichigo woke up looking thoroughly beaten up even as just having been sleeping, Grimmjow were sure he was going insane. Yet, even so, he _tried_ to keep himself from asking Ichigo what was up with him.

Knowing how honest Ichigo was, he feared to hear the truth.

* * *

><p>. . .<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's ramble<strong> (again)**;**_ I fee slightly sorry for Grimmjow. And yes, eventually you will probably find out more 'bout him. Maybe. We'll see ;)_

_Thanks to all those reviewing the last chapter! It makes me so happy reading your reviews and thoughts ^^_

_Having found out how to edit old chapters (honestly, I'm such a noob, I had no idea you had to re-upload chapters after editing them in the doc man. thing, but, after growing half insane, I figured it out) I have now corrected all the mistakes that I saw I've missed. I also changed a few sentences, for it to flow smoother, but no sentences were added - that I can remeber - and you don't need to go back and read if worrying to have missed something._

_Taking to heart what **Quiet Fury** and a few others've told me, I've spent ages in changing all the 'were' I found to be 'was' instead, and have tried impriting which goes where. However, when writing AN, I'll stick to occasionally write 'were' instead of 'was', as personally I do not find it as important to be grammatically correct in AN, as it is in stories. _

_I hope you enjoyed the new chapter, and that no one were disappointed. Please review ^^_


	3. Alone

**I do not own Bleach or the characters in anyway, I do, however, own the plot idea.**

**Full summary; **_Ichigo like to think of himself as a normal kid. He really does; he have wonderful sisters, a crazy father, great friends and he have just started going to University. A perfectly normal teenager. If completely ignoring the fact that every night he wakes up by Dreams and find himself sporting new bruises and wounds after having witnessed a accident or someone's death, that means. Being psychic might not be everyone's definition of normal, but it is to Ichigo._

**Warnings; **_In this chapter; talking and showings of cutting and suicide. Possibly some cursing. Mentions of blood._

**Author's ramble;**_ I've had this chapter finished for quite a while now, and I wanted to wait for my beta to get it done before posting. Unfortunately, she haven't had time for it, and I wanted to put this up before going away. I will be gone for at least a week - last time I said _a week_, I was gone for three weeks. Go figure - so to be safe, I'll post it now. Unbeta'd, but read through several times to make sure there's no mistakes. If finding any mistakes, though, be kind to tell me._

_Another thing, before you continue reading. In the previous chapter, when Ichigo touch Grimmjow and get a Sight, I have edited it to show Ichigo have two more Sights. This is for you to better understand future chapters. It'll make sense when those chapters are posted. I hope._

_Thanks to all those who have reviewed and fav'd this story, I hope ya'll enjoy this chapter too._

* * *

><p><em>. . .<em>

* * *

><p>Ichigo absently rubbed his arm, head tilted back as he watched the darkened, but still too-bright, sky, trying to make out some stars.<p>

In difference to the small town Karakura where he was born and raised, it was nearly impossible to see the stars in the town of his University. Here sharp lights from skyscrapers and streetlights lit the place up enough for the stars to be permanently hidden. When moving out, Ichigo hadn't thought that he would miss something as simple as _seeing the stars_.

Sighing, he lowered his head again as plucking the cigarette from his lips, a dusty white cloud of smoke filtering the air in front of him as he exhaled, watching it shimmer out in the wind until there was no trace left of it. Ichigo rarely smoked, only when he felt to have too much on his mind and needed a way to relax did he resort to smoking.

That Friday night was one of those times.

Much against his will, Grimmjow had managed with convincing him to come one of the many parties he attended. Not until being told that it took place at the girls' dormitory, Ichigo agreed to come with. Grimmjow had laughed and made fun of him for that, though he did not ask why it made Ichigo change his mind, as the blue haired male had already learned that it was to no use to pressure Ichigo further if he didn't want to give an answer. It didn't meant he wasn't curious, though, as so far Ichigo hadn't really shown any interest in girls or, well, _anyone_.

If Grimmjow thought he came with just to meet with girls, then Ichigo wouldn't correct him. Grimmjow could think whatever he wanted. Because the main reason for Ichigo coming with to the girls' dormitory was, to him, simple and with no thought of pleasure included at all.

Having suffered through Dreams and the occasional Sight – which was _strange_, as he had almost always needed physical contact for the Sights, but it wasn't _unusual_ – for over two weeks, Ichigo had finally given up. Something kept him back from calling someone to give her help, every time he raised the phone to dial her brother or the social service, his mind seemed to short-circuit, and the phone was soon again on the desk without a call having been made.

Coming to the University was a lot more troublesome than Ichigo had thought.

Inhaling and exhaling on the cigarette once more, he let it fall to the ground, a final glance was given to the none-existent stars as the toxic stick were crushed under his sneaker, and he walked forward.

If it was a hunch, or a Sight, Ichigo didn't know, and he had been too tired to even think too much about it. He did know, though, that he had been right in that the girl from his Dreams was standing at the rooftop of the girls' dormitory, seemingly unaware that Ichigo had been behind her for nearly ten minutes, as she stared blankly in front of her.

Not saying a word, as she wouldn't have heard him anyway, if the earbuds blasting music was anything to go by, Ichigo walked up next to her, resting his arms against the same railing she had been pressed up against, being less than an arms reach away from her. At least that had her react; earbuds were ripped out, violet eyes widening as she took a step to the side, her whole frame showing for suspicion, and with the smallest hint of fear.

"Yo," Ichigo greeted casually, staring blankly into space the very same way the lithe girl just had.

"H-hello," she offered, eyes darting from Ichigo to around the roof, searching out if there were anymore people.

"I'm alone," Ichigo offered, his lip tilting up in a half smile when the girl glanced at him. "Of course you won't believe me, though. I'm just a stranger, there's no reason to trust me."

The girl looked blankly at him, seeming to consider his words. Then she threw another glance behind her, clear enough proof that she didn't believe him. Ichigo sighed as he hung with his head. He had known this wouldn't be easy. It never was, no one really believed him when just showing up out of the blue. Most of his current friends had thought him batshit insane.

Maybe he was, too.

They stood in silence for a while, the girl seeming prepared to run any second, even if it was clear that she wanted to stay and admire the view for a bit longer. Eventually, she settled for hinting to him that she wanted him gone. "You should return to the party before they start to worry about you."

"Don't think anyone would worry," Ichigo answered honestly, seemingly oblivious to the hint. "I didn't come here to party, anyway."

"Then why are you here?" the girl asked, exasperated.

Ichigo opened his mouth to speak, brows furrowing tighter together as he licked his lips, wondering why it never got easier to speak about these things. "I... came to see you. Actually."

The look of disbelief the girl held disappeared in an instant, a cold, chilling gaze being directed at Ichigo, filled with loath and anger. "I see."

"No, you don't. Shit," Ichigo slumped lower over the railing, running a hand through orange strands. He could have worded that differently. He had seen and remembered so much through her, and yet he ended up saying the completely wrong thing. "I'm... I'm not a stalker. Or anything. But... I know what you're up to. And I just... want you to stop-"

"Excuse me, but you do not know anything about me," the girl replied, her posture rigid as she turned. "Please don't come close to me ag-"

"I tried to kill myself when I was fourteen."

The girl froze, her already tense body becoming unnervingly stiff, as she slowly turned her head to watch the young male. Bright orange hair, keeping him in center of attention either he wanted it or not, seemed almost illuminating from the streetlight down below.

Looking at him, she could only see a boy that constantly had people - woman and men alike - come up to him in school and try to befriend him, his permanent scowl and well built body making him interesting to the girls, and the boys most often tried to get close to him since he was 'sort of popular', due to his friendliness with Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. She could only imagine that in his old school, he had been a popular boy, as there was no denying that he were highly attractive.

She didn't believe him for a second. Someone popular and good looking did not just decide to end ones life. He were, quite frankly, the complete opposite of her.

"It's not easy, is it?" Ichigo continued, not looking to see if she was still there, still listening. "You're all alone in a world full of people. And you... you just can't reach out to them. There's a whole ocean between you and them, and you can't just build a bridge to close the gap. Making it stop, coming to peace... it all seem so _easy_, doesn't it?"

Except, those words didn't sound to come from a liar. Especially not the tone he used. Tired, weary, bitter. Someone that was sick of living, but continued on still. She knew that feeling well enough.

Not saying a word, she turned her body fully, violet eyes watching Ichigo as if willing him to say more, give her a reason to not just leave. Even when not facing her, Ichigo seemed to understand well enough, as he continued on as if having been asked to.

"I thought I'd manage to pull it off. I _saw_ it. I knew that they wouldn't find me. My dad's a doctor, and I helped him out in the clinic, I knew where the pills were," pausing, Ichigo licked his lips, his voice becoming distant as he remembered the vision about himself, still wondering what had gone wrong. "I took... ten of them, I think. A mix of everything. I just took 'em all. I _saw_ it, I saw myself die. I thought it all would end with that. And I was so _happy_, because it meant that I didn't have to feel all this pain, see everything I did, and... it meant everything would stop," he trailed of, sighing. "I fucking saw it. It's the only time I've been wrong."

She took a step forward, not even aware of it, as frowning. "What do you mean, you 'saw' it?"

As she spoke those words, she knew it was not the thing she should be asking about, nor was it the thing she _wanted _to know more of. There was so much else of what he had said that she should focus on, as trying to understand _why_ someone like Kurosaki felt to have burdens on his shoulders that was so heavy that he saw no other way out than to end his life.

That simple question, though, seemed to be a good start. It was easier focusing on something simple, than something that was difficult to comprehend.

"You wouldn't believe me," Ichigo sighed, turning to face her.

* * *

><p><em>Her hands were shaking as she turned the water off, the bathtub filled to the brim. Dressed in her nicest clothes, all make up removed from her pale face, she reached for the bottle. Taking them two at a time, she had soon swallowed fourteen of the sleeping pills, and then added one more to keep it in a number she liked.<em>

_The dizziness didn't come as soon as she had thought, but that was just good. A soft, content smile played her thin lips as she slipped into the water, the warmth feeling like a comfortable embrace, as she reached for the razor._

_As the sharp steel sunk into her skin for the third time, she started to feel the pills take affect, her body and head feeling heavy, so incredibly distant and dull. Still she kept cutting, doing it over and over until the water took on a pinkish tone, soon turning deeper red, until it were was a dark rust colored hue._

_Unable to control her own movements, the razor slipped from numb fingers, disappearing into the brown tinted water as she slid further down, eyes slipping shut._

_There was no pain, only a thick, warm blanket of contentedness. No pleasure, no pain. Nothing expect emptiness. As it had always been._

* * *

><p>He swallowed thickly, her amethyst eyes having nearly the same affect on him as Grimmjow's had; he were incapable of looking away, feeling as if she read his very soul by just having their eyes meet. And somehow... it was a different sensation over it. Both their gazes burn into his core, but whilst Grimmjow's eyes were simply intent, the girl in front of him was trying to <em>see<em>.

He didn't feel as if she would understand. But... perhaps she wouldn't dismiss him. He got the feeling that she would at least _try_ to understand what he went through. That she would be one that could accept, and ask questions to try and understand, rather than question him out of curiousity alone.

When was the last time he got that feeling?

As she narrowed her eyes, arms crossing over her modest chest and opening her mouth to speak, Ichigo suddenly realized why he had never called for someone to help. "Try me," she said, or more like ordered. And Ichigo smiled.

_She was a Stray._

"I will," he said.

* * *

><p>. . .<p>

* * *

><p>'Stray' was not a term Ichigo came up with, he wasn't even especially fond of what they called themselves, but he figured he couldn't expect much else from Renji, that had always seen himself as a dog, and a stray more than anything.<p>

Renji was the very first one, beaten and tired of everything, he had tried getting rid of the twelve year old kid, by beating him up every time he tried to help. Even so, after all the bruises, insults and promises of death, Ichigo had still tried to help him. When Renji, looking too tired to care anymore, had asked _why_ he cared, Ichigo had given one simple answer; _I don't want anyone else to die because of me_.

Renji was the first, calling himself a beat up dog, saying he was a stray. It soon changed to Ichigo's Stray.

Shinji had been in his Dreams too many times to count, the Sights coming with just a brush of shoulders, without skin to skin contact needed. Renji had only needed to look at him and Sights came to him. Uryuu only needed to let out a breath, and it was as if the air pressure alone brought him Sights. Tatsuki was the only one he could share a bed with, without fearing to accidentally touch her skin and drown in despair.

They were the first Strays.

They were the only ones that could touch him, without bringing him bad Sights, the only one that got close and didn't have him feel to drown in memories and thoughts and visions of death and suffering. With them, he would see only the good in their lives, unless it was Dreams.

Lost, alone, lacking hope, Ichigo found and saved them. They were still strays, but there was someone that cared. Straying after Ichigo, hoping for friendship and warmth even though they did not fully trust, they eventually became part of the family.

_Strays_. The ones he were highly sensitive to, the ones he saw even when having miles between them. The ones that was family, even with no blood connecting them. The ones he feared to loose, the ones he desperately clung onto sanity for, so not to have them worry about him.

* * *

><p>Ichigo sat down at the concrete, his jacket being pulled off to lay in front of him, nodding to the girl to sit on it. From experience, he knew that most girls would take it as an insult if he expected for them to sit on the bare ground, and he really didn't care if his jacket got a little dirty.<p>

Dirt on his jacket or death for a girl. It was stupid to even ask of him to choose.

Sitting down, the girl pulled her knees to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them as she looked curiously, and a little suspicious, at Ichigo. But she sat down. That was a good sign, as it showed that whilst there was trust lacking, she did at least believe him to be harmless enough to stay close to. Ichigo clung onto that thought, as if it were a safety buoy.

"Do you believe in psychics?" Ichigo asked, amber holding on to amethyst eyes, daring her to look away.

A raven dark brow was raised, her gaze not wavering. "As in those who can speak to ghosts?"

"...I guess, sort of like that," Ichigo allowed, stopping himself before he glanced away and grew distant, thoughts of his little sister being pushed away to the back of his mind for later. "What I'm asking... do you believe that people can see the future and past of others?"

"No," the answer was short and simple, and just what Ichigo had suspected.

He couldn't help but to smile weakly, hands groping over his side to pick out another cigarette, before remembering that he kept them in the jacket. Leaning over to grab them would bring him closer to the girl, and Ichigo was smart enough to know that it would be a bad move with someone like her. Instead, he sighed, leaning back on his arms, and tilted his head up, wishing to be able to see the stars.

He missed his hometown.

"I'm psychic," he finally said, eyes closing to not see her expression. Even if expecting it, their looks of disbelief and obvious thoughts of _fucking lunatic_ always hurt him to the core. "I have... Dreams, you can call it. Dreams of people getting hurt and dying. Every night, I see it, feel it, and wake up with their memories and scars," without looking, he reached his arm out towards the girl, using his other hand to tug the sleeve up, showing the still red welts of cuts she was the reason for. "Compare these to yours."

Having considered to leave after the confession, Ichigo's last words took her by surprise, as did the marks on his arms. Not just the red, angry strokes that seemed new, but there was countless of scars hidden below them, overlapping each other, creating patterns of white and light brown spiderwebs over skin that had not bee smooth for a long time.

Biting her lip, she made sure that his eyes was still closed, before she carefully tugged the sleeve of her too-big hoodie up and held her arm out, moving it to be next to Ichigo's, skin not touching. Tilting her head to the side, her forehead creased as she compared the marks. Even with the difference in arms length they had, she could still see that their scars were... similar.

No, not _similar_.

The scars on his arms, were the exact same scars that she was carrying on the same arm.

_They were _identical.

Ichigo's scars seemed to have healed for a couple of days, so it was not like he could have accidentally seen her scars and mimicked them just to make fun of her for the conversations sake. Not when she did those very scars only four hours ago.

Snapping her hand back, she covered the scars, pressing both her wrists tightly to her chest, and watched Ichigo with growing unease. The logic part of her kept saying that he was an attention hogging liar, that she should up and go, and pay him no more mind.

The part that won and had her stay, though, was the one of her gut. Her instincts telling her that he might just be _honest_, that the marks and words weren't a lie, and as his head lowered, dark amber meeting her eyes again, the tiredness and resignation all too clear to pick out beneath the warmth even to her jumbled mind, she saw the honesty in them as easy as if it had been spelled out. And... was it care?

She couldn't even remember how being cared for felt. Not care for what she needed materialistically, but care for _her_, as a person.

"If you're psychic, then why do you get scars?" she asked, feeling as if unable to look away from those eyes that were so heavy, and yet managed to look so warm and comforting. "Isn't it to be just in the head?"

The sigh he let out contained years of burdens. "Who knows?" he asked back, shrugging his shoulders weakly. With that simple move and sentence, it struck her that she might not be the only one wondering, but it must be worse for him to not know, as it was _his_ body; his skin and psych taking the damage. "Do you trust me?"

"No," a pause, and then the hesitated continuation, "I... I don't think so."

"No one does," Ichigo sighed, the small smile over his lips making his eyes seem even warmer, before he tilted his head away, looking off to the side. "I've been suffering from this ever since I was a baby, I guess. We don't know for sure, but my dad say I always woke up with a... 'jerky twitch' whilst screaming. It seem like I still do that after Dreams, according to him, so we figured that I've always been through this, ever since my birth.

"The... the scars, they didn't come until I were older. Old enough to speak, and I would suddenly wake up with cut skin, bruises and feeling as if I had been crushed together. It freaked my parents out, but I didn't understand what went on. I told them about my Dreams and how it happened, and then... they started to realize that what I told them, happened to people in our surrounding. At first, it was people close to me. The neighbors we often met, close friends to my family, the children I played with... Soon it came to be about more. I didn't even need to know them very well, I just needed to have been close to them for a while, and I could see them in my Dreams. Around that time I started to get Sights too."

Ichigo sighed again, eyes closing briefly as he turned his head back to her, and as he looked up, he kept his eyes straight ahead, over her head. As if he couldn't stand to look at her.

She didn't blame him. Her eyes were wide, terrified and horrified, trying to imagine a child version of Ichigo that woke up with blood covering his small body, parents in a frenzy because their child was cut up, and they didn't know how it had happened. Goosebumps spread over her arms, despite her being so heavily clothed, and she just couldn't look away from him.

Why suicide had been a choice of his, were suddenly easy enough to understand.

"With Dreams, I _am_ the person I see. It's... like I'm possessing their bodies, seeing everything through their eyes. And since I am them, I take the damage they receive, either they do it themselves, or someone else does it to them," at his words, it felt as if someone had thrown icy cold water onto her, eyes instinctively darting down to his arm. _I cut his skin open_. It was all _her _fault. "Don't blame yourself," Ichigo continued as he lowered his gaze, that soft, warm, and tired smile over his lips again. She wasn't the first to think that, she didn't even need to say the words for him to understand that panicked look. "With my Dreams, I am the person, so I can feel their thoughts, remember their memories."

Another pause, Ichigo licking over his dry lips, letting it sink in and hesitating before continuing. "I've seen what you do, what you're thinking of doing, and _why_ you're doing it. And... I don't know what to do. I just want to help, but... you don't want my help."

She bit her lip, turning her head away. He was right in that. She didn't want help. She just wanted everything to end. She was tired of fighting, tired of pretending that she was fine and as stoic as her brother. All she wanted was to get a rest from a life filled with disappointment and agony.

"Why do you care?"

"Why shouldn't I?" Ichigo answered, sighing once again. "I don't want anyone else to die because of me."

"No one said I would die."

"I've seen it," her eyes widened, mouth hanging open as she spun her head to look at Ichigo, the thought of _thank Kami, it'll end_ passing by. The pained tones he spoke in didn't fully reach her right away. "Fifteen pills, your wrists cut open in the bath. The water was brown before you died," Ichigo swallowed thickly as he pulled his leg up, pressing his forehead against his knee. "I _was_ you. I was the one to die, I was the one... No. it's not like that. You will die, and... and I don't want you to. Your brother doesn't want you to. It's- it's not _right_. There's so much more for you."

"How do you know about what Nii-sama would want?" she asked, the coldness back in her voice, though her tone was not as stern as it had been before. Ichigo surely made a pitiful figure where he sat. And she could only feel compassion. It was long since she had to force herself to sound so cold; since becoming part of her current family, coldness had become second nature.

"I told you. I've seen your memories, I _was_ you. But... since I'm not really you, but another person, I see the things you're missing. Like when your brother ask how you are. It's not out of duty, he _is_ worried. And when he doesn't answer you immediately, it's not because he's busy. There's never any sign of sound on the other side of the line, he just tries to come up with what to say. I'm you, but with my own thoughts and views."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"I know!" Ichigo startled at his own yell, eyes immediately snapping shut as he gripped his hair, a habit from childhood, when he just wanted Dreams and Sights to be over, to go away, to let him be _normal_. He had stopped hoping for the impossible. "I know. It's... I know it doesn't make sense. It happens to me, and I _understand_ it, but it doesn't make _sense_. I just... do you trust me? About this, I mean," without being able to stop himself, he breathed out a soft, barely audible, "_Please_."

She was quiet for a long while, violet eyes growing distant as she glanced over his shoulder, staring at the little of the view she could see.

How could anyone trust something like that? There was honesty in his voice and eyes, the scars on his arms, identical to hers, telling that it was true. But was it really true, or just true in his own mind? It could be that he _was_ crazy, that something had gone wrong with him, and he was desperately yearning for attention, by cutting his skin and telling lies.

She couldn't believe that.

The young male in front of her, eyes heavy by the burdens of what he saw, emotions belonging to other people forced up on him over and over, did not seem to be crazy, nor a liar.

"I don't know," she answered honestly, a deep sigh escaping her as she stood up, still not looking at him. Keeping her gaze on the darkened sky were better to look into warm amber eyes, that held _care_ for her. "I've never believed in the supernatural."

"I've always wondered what that's like," Ichigo murmured, and the way he spoke it, a half smile tilting his lips as he stared at his legs, made her understand that he was speaking to himself. "A normal life... without ghosts and Dreams and death... I wonder what it's like."

She smiled, eyes going soft as she looked down at him. That seemed like a good question. For someone living in a world of his own, experiencing what no one else did, a normal life must seem like a dream. To him, _normal_ was as much of a distant concept as the supernatural was to her.

_You're all alone in a world full of people. And you just can't reach out to them. There's a whole ocean between you and them, and you can't just build a bridge to close the gap._

His words made all too much sense to her, a shiver running down her spine by how accurate it was. When thinking of it like that, she realized that _she_ could find help. The pain she felt was her own, but what she went through was shared with thousands of people; she was not the first to cut, or plan her own death. But this young boy in front of her... he was truly alone.

In the world of many, _he_ was alone. Because how could someone understand a thing they was forever incapable of experiencing? What one not knows, they fear.

She didn't know if he was one she could trust, but she knew, deep inside, that she could at least _believe_ in him.

"It would be easier," she whispered, blushing slightly when Ichigo looked up at her in surprise, before the heaviness and tiredness in his eyes seemed to just slither away, leaving room for only warmth and gratitude. "My..." she paused, glancing away briefly before looking back at him, her mind made up. "My name's Kuchiki Rukia."

The look in his eyes told her he understood.

"I'm Kurosaki Ichigo," he nodded, grabbing his jacket at standing up, a smile stretching his lips. "Let's hope our next meeting will be a bit less depressing, ne?"

Rukia could only smile back at him, whilst nodding softly, her eyes moving out to the view again.

One could only hope.

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><p>. . .<p>

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><p>Four hours later Ichigo woke with a jerk, sitting upright as staring down at his wrist, slight streaks of blood, though not as prominent as usually, decorating his skin. Even so, he was smiling as he walked across the room and into the bathroom, quickly washing and bandaging the new scars.<p>

It was the first time in three nights that he hadn't woken every second hour from the sight of Rukia's death.

He hadn't believed her to stop cutting just like that, and the new scars proved him right. But to see her cut instead of die, gave him hope that for a while ahead, thoughts of suicide was dropped.

It was a start, and it was why he crawled back into bed with a grin, and fell asleep with a content smile.

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><p>It was an hour after that, that he was standing bent over Grimmjow, still smiling slightly, but with a pained expression as he tried to wake his roommate up. It took five tries, before Grimmjow snapped up into sitting position, eyes dark and filled with thoughts of murder, as he glared at Ichigo, snapping out a flow of curses, before asking – with many more curses – what in the love of everything holy possessed Ichigo to wake him up at four thirty in the morning when it was <em>Saturday<em>.

Ichigo asked him to take him to the hospital, and Grimmjow blinked, eyes darting to Ichigo's bottom lip that were split and swollen, before letting his gaze wander lower.

His eyes landed on Ichigo's arm, that hung limply against side, yet still stuck out at odd angles. It looked...

"Ya broke yer arm," Grimmjow repeated dully, after Ichigo revealed that tidbit of information to him. He felt a flood of resignation take over him as he looked back up into amber eyes. "Where ya outside?" a hesitant head shake from Ichigo made Grimmjow want to just crawl back under the cover and fall asleep, pretend that things like that didn't happen. "Ya broke yer arm in yer sleep."

"...yes."

Grimmjow silently wondered if he was going insane. It just wasn't normal to have a roommate that woke up from sleep and suddenly had a broken arm.

Or it was Ichigo that was insane – which seemed a lot more plausible. _Normal_ people did not wake up with broken arms, grinning widely and calmly asking for a ride to the hospital. Normal people would have been in panic; crying and sobbing about it hurting and they had no idea what had happened.

Grimmjow sighed, shaking his head as he stood up. Perhaps both of them were insane; Ichigo for having those things happening to him, and Grimmjow for throwing his jacket on, grabbing his keys, wallet and call his friend up for a favor. Normal people would have sent Ichigo away, but Grimmjow – being insane – chose to ignore everything strange with Ichigo, and tried acting like the good friend he wasn't.

"Starrk'll drive us there," Grimmjow muttered, snarling at Ichigo when they teen gave him a relieved, and happy, smile.

He definitely was crazy.

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><p>. . .<p>

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><p><strong>Author's ramlings;<strong>_ Did anyone even notice that I never wrote Rukia's name until the very end? I know it was pretty obvious who 'the girl' was, due to the raven hair and purple eyes, but as she and Ichigo hadn't officially introduced themselves to each other, I felt it to be better that I did not reveal her name until she said it herself. And yes, part of their introduction is inspired by their introduction in the manga. I couldn't resist._

_That being said, please tell me whatcha think 'bout the story, and I'll post in two weeks. Or a month, if my trip drags out longer._


	4. Confusion

**I do not own Bleach or the characters in anyway, I do, however, own the plot idea.**

**Full summary; **_Ichigo like to think of himself as a normal kid. He really does; he have wonderful sisters, a crazy father, great friends and he have just started going to University. A perfectly normal teenager. If completely ignoring the fact that every night he wakes up by Dreams and find himself sporting new bruises and wounds after having witnessed a accident or someone's death, that means. Being psychic might not be everyone's definition of normal, but it is to Ichigo._

**Warnings; **_Not much to warn about. Talks about drugs/medication, character wondering if they're going insane, and a bit of confusion. Other than that, nada._

**Author's ramble;**_ Heh. You know, this is the second time I've written this chapter, and it didn't turn out - or end up - the same as the first one, but I'm pleased enough with it still. I had it saved on my USB, but as luck would have it, _something_ happened (and honest to god, I have no idea what) and it broke into four pieces. Go figure. Since I at the time can't afford to fix it, and not even my uncle can prefer such miracles with technology things, I settled with just re-writing it, which is why it took so long to get it out._

_I hope you'll accept that as reason enough why it took as long as it did._

_Thanks to all those who have reviewed and fav'd this story, I hope ya'll enjoy this chapter too._

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><p>...<p>

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><p>Sitting in the waiting room of the hospital at seven thirty in the morning wasn't how Grimmjow had thought to spend his Saturday morning. As far as his plan went, he would have still been deeply asleep, hours away from waking up. And when he did wake up, he would be trying to remember what he had done the night before, and nurse a hangover.<p>

Instead, he found himself staring blankly at a TV screen hanging a bit away, tilted for the patient to see the screen no matter where they were seated, unless they were directly under the TV. He was aware that an old re-run of _Friends _was showing, though nearly incapable of actually seeing the show. Movements, talking and the faked laughter all reached into his mind, though he was too unfocused to actually understand what it was really all about.

Not just with the TV show. Currently, life itself seemed to have him confused.

Glancing down, his brows pulled together when seeing Ichigo. His roommate being deeply asleep, seemingly not bothered at all that his arm was broken. Or that he was resting his head on Grimmjow's chest. Or that Grimmjow's arm was wrapped around his shoulder in a half embrace. Things that normally would have Ichigo flinch away and look half-panicked. And maybe a little flustered. Grimmjow couldn't be too sure about that, since they weren't really this close. The only times they were even touching, was when Grimmjow helped Ichigo clean up his wound, or Ichigo was leaning over his shoulder to help him with homework – which was ironic, considering that Ichigo was the younger of the two. But really, he couldn't help that he sucked on math.

Despite the absurdity with it, he had come to terms with that Ichigo's arm had been broken _in his sleep_, his mind just... didn't want to process the fact that it was possible to receive such bodily damage by just _sleeping_. The scars, the bruises – it could be explained with Ichigo subconsciously doing it himself amidst the trashing around during his nightmares. A broken arm, though?

It made no sense whatsoever. Grimmjow had tried telling himself that, by accident or not, the damage to his body was done by Ichigo himself. Breaking his arm in his sleep, however, put those hopes to an end. The truth was – and Grimmjow hated to admit it – that whatever Ichigo dreamed happening to him, actually _did_ happen to him. How something like that actually could be possible, he would never understand, and he wasn't even sure that he _wanted_ to understand it.

Sighing, he leaned his chin against Ichigo's head, his thumb moving in slow circles over his roommate's arm, expression softening slightly when Ichigo nuzzled closer to him. It amazed him how quick he could go from wanting to punch or shake some sense into Ichigo, to just want to hold him. _Stupid Berry_.

Glancing up, he tried to spot the doctor, wondering how much longer they needed to wait for the old bastard to get back. So far, they had x-rayed Ichigo's arm, and found out that it wasn't broken, but fractured in two places – not that Grimmjow really understood the difference, because something was _still_ broken, right? Considering how odd the arm had looked, it didn't surprise Grimmjow in the least. What _did_ surprise him, was when he found it wasn't the first time Ichigo had broken his arm. Nor was it the second or third. It had been the _ninth_ time that Ichigo got to the hospital, because his arm had been broken, or fractured.

Grimmjow had been too afraid to ask, so he hadn't, but he instinctively _knew _that every damn time Ichigo's arm had been in a cast, it had been because he woke up with the damage. It would explain Ichigo's all too calm demeanor when waking Grimmjow up, and calmly asking for a ride to the hospital. It only had him wondering for how long Ichigo had been suffering through getting his body damaged in his sleep, and how many more broken bones he had gotten by simply sleeping.

Letting out yet another sigh, Grimmjow lifted his head up to be able to look at Ichigo's face. Even when sleeping, the boy was frowning. They were just roommates, barely even friends, and yet Grimmjow hated to see Ichigo so tense the whole time. Honestly, there were many times when he looked at Ichigo's face, saw the dark circles under his eyes, saw him rub a new scar or bruise, noticed the haunted, tired look in Ichigo's eyes, and was overwhelmed with a sudden need to just grab the younger boy and try to comfort him.

If Ichigo hadn't been so terrified of touching, and if he himself wouldn't have felt extremely awkward by doing it, Grimmjow was sure he would have hugged Ichigo long time ago. It disturbed him that he wanted to be close to a person without it being his sister, or it being about sex. Or, more correctly, what disturbed him with that thought, was that it didn't disturb him _at all_.

Sitting in the waiting room, having Ichigo lean against him as he almost – but nor really – embraced his younger friend whilst they waited for the doctor to be done with an emergency case and come back to splinter Ichigo's arm, Grimmjow only felt content. It was _nice_ sitting like that with Ichigo, just relaxing, having the orangette sleep against him, for once not jerking around by night terrors.

Yes, life was _definitely_ confusing Grimmjow for the moment.

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><p>"Oi, Berry," Grimmjow muttered, gently tugging on the orange tresses. "Time ta wake up."<p>

The doctor had told him to keep Ichigo's sleeping to a minimum for a while ahead, after having drugged him. Or, _sedated_ him, as it was so nicely called. It didn't matter to Grimmjow exactly what it was called; drugs and medication rubbed him the wrong way, no matter what it was for. Just taking an aspirin for his head was making him uneasy. Even if it was to sedate Ichigo and numb him from pain, Grimmjow had still felt it to be _drugging_ the teen, rather than medicating him. He got the feeling Ichigo felt somewhat the same. After all, he had argued with the doctor for quite a while, before relenting and swallowed down the pills, his brows pulled together in a uncomfortable frown.

It was a sign that they maybe actually had become friends, instead of just roommates, as Grimmjow had learned the difference between when Ichigo were just showing up his default scowl, or he was scowling for another reason.

Groaning lowly, Ichigo shifted slightly, raising his arm to rub his eyes, and hissed as he was reminded that his arm was fractured and it _hurt_ to move it. Grimmjow's soothing touch as he ran his fingers through orange strands was a little help against the pain, even if it startled him awake almost immediately. He couldn't bring himself to move away from the almost-embrace.

"Told ya not to call me that," Ichigo grumbled, although he wasn't sure why he even tried. Grimmjow rarely called him just _Ichigo_, it was always Berry, or Kurosaki. He could count the times his given name had fell from Grimmjow's lips on one hand. "Sorry."

"Never mind," Grimmjow muttered, sighing as he gave the orange strands an extra tug, before sliding his hand down, gripping lightly on Ichigo's neck. "...Ichigo..."

And wasn't that ironic. Ichigo would smirk, if he wasn't busy swallowing thickly and trying to ignore that Grimmjow's face was too close to his, breath warm on his skin, nose brushing against his cheek, and he could _feel_ those deep, blue eyes staring into him. Searching his soul.

He quickly started ramble the mantra that had always been familiar to him, and even more so since he had started sharing a room with Grimmjow. _Keep the shields up, keep the walls up, keep him away_. _Hide_.

How did Grimmjow _always_ manage with making him falter, by just the simplest of touches? By just _looking_ at him in _that_ way? It wasn't _normal_.

"What?" if his voice hadn't been so shaky, it probably would have sounded sharp and unfriendly. Instead it was a mix in between, coming out all too breathlessly, and Ichigo cringed at the thought of a undertone of _hopefulness_ being mixed in there too.

Hopeful for_ what_ exactly? Having Grimmjow's skin brush against his was too much for him, he didn't want to imagine what could happen if Grimmjow would actually... _get closer_. Hug him, kiss him, _fuck him_. It wasn't like kissing someone had ever been easy to begin with, so what could happen if Grimmjow of all people chose to kiss him? Grimmjow, that easily had his shields and walls fall down without even _trying_. One touch, and Ichigo was a goner. In all the negative ways.

If trying to get too close, it could only end up one way; Grimmjow would see the demon in him, how fucked up he really is, what mess he could bring into people's lives – what mess he _would_ have brought to everyone if he didn't have the smallest of control.

He blinked, swallowing thickly once again as trying to lean away from Grimmjow. Instead he did the mistake to look up, his eyes meeting Grimmjow's, and he... he really was a goner.

Grimmjow and Rukia... their eyes were so similar. They both seemed to bore into his soul, as if being able to read his mind; being so intense that Ichigo had to force himself not to squirm away. Though there was a major difference to _what_ exactly their gazes did to him.

Rukia, trying so hard to be cold and distant to everyone, had eyes speaking of chilliness and a knowledge of that a firm enough gaze could get anyone to talk. Violet eyes staring into his, made him want to share everything in his life, even though he doubted she would believe everything. She was a Stray, though, so he knew that soon he _would_ share most everything. He just wasn't ready for it just yet.

Grimmjow, whose eyes had always been thick with amusement and a hint of almost-cruelty their first months of knowing each other, was now always looking at him with curiosity and a worry that the blunette himself would refuse existed. All the times Grimmjow would care for him, bandage his wounds and clean the scars, made him see the blue haired male in a new light. Grimmjow might act like an arrogant asshole, but from what Ichigo had seen of his past – _always the past _– he was one of the few around Grimmjow that actually knew what a big heart the man had.

That attraction he had felt in the beginning? It was still there, only it was so much worse, because it wasn't _just_ attraction, but something _more_. Something scaring the hell out of Ichigo, because he knew that he would never be able to act on it, short of losing his mind.

Rukia's eyes might make him want to share his secrets, but Grimmjow's eyes had his brain short-circuit, made him speechless and had him forced to fight back blushes.

Grimmjow stared at Ichigo, trying to gauge an reaction out of him. Though apart from looking slightly terrified – and nervous like hell – Ichigo didn't do anything. He didn't try to pull back, didn't try to explain what was happening to him, even though he _had_ to know what Grimmjow was wondering about. Instead, those annoyingly gentle amber eyes met his straight on.

Sighing, Grimmjow lowered his head, a slight half-smile tilting his lips as he leaned away from Ichigo. "Never mind," he muttered, moving his fingers into Ichigo's hair again. "If I asked ya, would'ya even tell me?"

Ichigo smirked wryly, turning his head away from his roommate's. "No," he answered honestly. There wasn't any point in lying; Grimmjow seemed to be able to read him well enough already to know if he spoke the truth or not. It didn't bother him as much as it should have. "You wouldn't believe me."

"Ya keep sayin' that," the smile faded as Grimmjow frowned, tugging lightly on Ichigo's hair once again. It always surprised him how soft and smooth the orange strands was to touch; it looked as if it would be as soft to the touch as a cactus. Though despite the spiky look, as if having too much hair products in it, Ichigo's hair was simply naturally standing in all directions like that. Completely defying gravity and logic. "But ya won't know 'til ya tried, Berry."

_Call me _Ichigo_ again_. Ichigo frowned at his own thoughts, ducking his head lower down to hide his blush. _And stop touching my hair_. The touches really didn't do anything to help his vow to not get too close to Grimmjow.

"You're not the first one saying that, y'know. They always say 'I'll believe you', but... they just don't," moving a hand up, he brushed Grimmjow's hand away, the petting of his hair getting a bit too much. A little longer, and all his walls would come crashing down. "Unless it's important, I'm not going to tell you."

"What's classed as important?"

Biting down hard on his bottom lip, Ichigo shrugged halfheartedly, glancing up just in time to see his doctor entering the waiting room nodding towards him as spotting his patiently waiting patient. He let out a deep sigh, not daring to even glance at Grimmjow as he finally answered. "Dying."

There was a thick silence, Grimmjow looking dumbfound at his roommate, for a few, long moments wondering if he had missed something. _Dying_? What did that have to do with anything?

"What?"

Ichigo stood up, finally raising his gaze and looked directly at him. Grimmjow just barely kept a grimace back when Ichigo's eyes met his; instead of the normal warm, gentle and weary look in them, Ichigo just looked... tired. Exhausted, weary, frustrated and pained. As if saying that simple word had been all too draining for him. Grimmjow didn't like that look in Ichigo's eyes at all. He preferred to look into gentle amber eyes.

"If you die, I'll tell you," Ichigo clarified, giving his roommate a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Kurosaki-san?" the doctor stepped up to the two students, giving them both a tired, but real smile. "I'm sorry for letting you wait so long. But if you would please come with me, now, so we can have that arm treated."

"It's fine," Ichigo promised, giving the doctor the same half-fake smile as he turned from his roommate.

Grimmjow stared dumbfound after Ichigo, trying to wrap his mind around what Ichigo had meant. _If you die, I'll tell you_. What the hell could possibly be so terrible with Ichigo's nightmares – '_dreams_', his mind needlessly corrected for him – that he didn't want to share it unless the other party was dead?

_Kami_, it didn't make any sense to him, no matter how he thought of it. Then again, Ichigo rarely made sense at all.

Pressing a hand over his face, Grimmjow let his head fall back against the wall with a soft _thud_, a low groan slipping him. Out of all the people in their school, he just _had_ to share a room with _that_ damn brat. It could have been anyone; someone nice, quiet, that he easily forgot to exist, or someone fun, that shared his interests and that he could befriend. Instead he got a tired looking brat that got hurt whenever he fell asleep and didn't see anything strange about it.

Out of one thousand students, Grimmjow ended up sharing a room with the strangest of the bunch. Even so, he couldn't bring himself to actually regret getting lodged with Ichigo. The thought bothered him, but he couldn't deny that he _did_ enjoy Ichigo's company.

The times when Ichigo seemed to relax was few, and he wouldn't say all the confusion and weirdness Ichigo brought with him was well worth it just to have the brat give him a smile that was not quite so forced or sarcastic every now and then. But there was just something with him that made Grimmjow want to put in a real effort to forget all about the strange things Ichigo seemed to experience, and just spend time with the boy when he was a bit more... _normal_.

Biting back a growl, Grimmjow stood up, already reaching for his cigarettes as he headed outside, vainly hoping that the morning air would clear his head enough to make sense out of a highly confusing morning. It didn't do much good.

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><p>...<p>

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><p>Putting the car into park, sleepy gray eyes glanced up at the rear view mirror, dark brown brows pulling together slightly as he watched the orange haired teen in his back seat. He had barely gotten time to start the car, before the kid had passed out, looking deadly tired and as if he hadn't gotten any sleep for days. Yet, when he had dropped them of at the hospital a couple of hours ago, Ichigo was the one to look awake and disturbingly fresh – for someone just having broken his arm – whilst Grimmjow looked to fall back to sleep any second.<p>

"He's a tired one," the driver murmured as he turned his gaze towards the blue haired man in the passenger seat. The comment gained him a deadpanned look from Grimmjow.

"Yer really ain't tha one getting' a say 'bout that, Starrk," Grimmjow muttered as he turned his body, eyes narrowing for the tenth time since he had gotten into the car as he looked at Ichigo. _Kami_, what kind of sedatives had the doctor given him, really? It didn't seem normal for someone to be knocked out that easily by just a couple of pills. "The doc drugged 'im."

"Sedated him."

Knowing Grimmjow's apprehension towards pills of any sort, Coyote Starrk was always quick with correcting his younger friend when Grimmjow claimed for someone to have been drugged. They had been friends for long enough that Starrk understood why Grimmjow hated any form of drugs, and because of that it probably would seem more logical that he would just have let comments of 'drugged' rather than 'sedated' slip. Though it was just because he knew Grimmjow so well that he couldn't let it go; if everyone continued to agree with Grimmjow when it came to 'pills are bad', the blue haired male would never accept people taking drugs, even when it was for medication, and needed for the person. Considering what a hotheaded fool Grimmjow was in the best of times, something like that could not just end up well.

"Look a' him, he's _drugged_," Grimmjow snapped, snarling lowly in his throat by the amused look Starrk gave him. "Che. Whatever. _Sedated_ him, then. It's suppose ta take pain away an' make him a 'little' tired. But he just keeps fallin' asleep. Bastard probably overdosed it."

Starrk rolled his eyes, before he looked at Ichigo again. He hated to admit it, but Grimmjow had a good point when he said that the youngest in the car looked drugged. Though he doubted that Ichigo was actually drugged, rather than just tired, and the kid had have a long morning. It was logical that he would seem a little knocked out. It was just like Grimmjow to overreact.

"Worried 'bout him?" There was another snarl coming from Grimmjow, followed with a death glare. Despite the obvious threat, Starrk could only just chuckle. Whenever Grimmjow tried denying something, it meant that it was true. If he didn't care, he would make a joke about it, or just ignore it. "Try relaxing, Grimmy. The painkiller's probably doesn't work well with his sleeping pills. Let him sleep it out, and he'll be just fine."

Grimmjow gave him a blank look. "...sleeping pills?"

"Yeah... Kid takes 'em, doesn't he?"

"I live with him, an' I haven't seen him take any pills," Grimmjow informed, running a hand through his hair as he flipped the sun screen down, observing Ichigo through the tiny mirror instead of having to turn his body halfway around. As much as he would like to think of the doctor mistreating Ichigo, it wouldn't surprise him all that much if Ichigo actually took sleeping pills. His roommate held a good deal of secrets, after all, and from what Grimmjow saw, the kid really was in dire need of something to help him sleep. Not that they seemed to help any, though. "Who told ya that?"

With a strong feeling of having said too much, Starrk did his best to not even glance at Grimmjow, and instead stared stubbornly at the blue car parked in front of him, as he shrugged his shoulders halfheartedly. "No one. I'm probably just confusing him with someone else."

"Starrk."And Grimmjow had known _him_ for too long to let him get away that easily.

The brown haired man sighed, wishing that he could just have been allowed to stay in his bed, and sleep for a bit longer. Preferably all day. Instead, he was woken up way too early and became designated driver for the norning, accompanied with a half-drugged teen and a blue haired male that looked ready to strangle anyone saying the wrong thing, and rip the head clean of the shoulders of whoever chose to get a bit too close to him. Inwardly, Starrk smirked wryly; it was just a wonderful start on the day.

"When the kid arrived, I showed him and his old man to your room," Starrk explained with a small shrug. "Kid's easy to remember, with that hair of his, and their conversation was... odd, in a way. His dad was worried you'd be touching him when he was sleeping, or some shit like that, and if ya did, you'd regret it," he shrugged again, a small frown marring his face as he thought back. "I dunno what it was all 'bout. But kid said that he'd ask someone 'bout sleeping pills. It wasn't any of my business, so I didn't think too much about it, and if it wasn't for him being _your_ roommate, I probably just would've forgotten 'bout it."

Starrk scratched his chin whilst glancing towards Grimmjow, his younger companion still looking at Ichigo through the mirror, eyes narrowed and mouth set in a thin line. Though it was the look in the blue eyes that got Starrk to freeze, fingers still pressed against his slight goatee. Grimmjow actually _was_ worried, in another way than he had thought. Grimmjow must have noticed something being off, as in the matter of seconds he looked questioning towards Starrk, who quickly tried to come up with something to say before Grimmjow started asking questions. "So... does he have nightmares? Trauma, something like that?"

"Dreams," Grimmjow replied, and then immediately facepalmed. The kid was a damn bad influence. "_Nightmares_," he corrected, the word said in a low growl that confused Starrk. "Brat got freakin' _nightmares_, not goddamn dreams."

"Uh-huh," Starrk nodded, with a strong feeling that he was missing something. Then he sighed, tugging a hand through shoulder length brown locks, and pushed the car door open. "Ya better wake him up, unless you want to carry him."

"Che, no help from ya?" Grimmjow muttered, sounding close to sulking as he opened his own door and stepped outside. His eyes briefly met Starrk's over the roof of the car, his friend looking tired as always, but also amused. It was sort of the tired male's default expression, and Grimmjow would never understand how someone could look so relaxed and serene almost the whole time. Himself, he could barely show up a smile that somehow didn't read as I'll-kill-you-and-rip-your-spine-right-out.

"No way in hell, I deserve some sleep," Starrk smirked, leaning down to look in through the window as Grimmjow opened the door to get to his roommate. "And he's your responsibility, Grimmy-kun."

Grimmjow groaned, sending yet another glare towards Starrk as he leaned inside the car. "Don' call me that, fuckhead," he warned, though the annoyed expression quickly melted away from his face as he turned his attention to Ichigo instead.

The kid pissed him off most of the time, and annoyed him like hell just as much, but in difference to Starrk and his other friends, he just couldn't seem able to stay mad at Ichigo for a longer period of time. Especially not when yet again watching Ichigo in a rare moment of calm sleep, his body for once not trashing around, and even though he _still_ managed to scowl, his face was somewhat looking a lot more relaxed than it normally did. If Grimmjow thought in the terms of 'cute', he definitely would have though of Ichigo like that, though instead he just stared at Ichigo, stupidly wondering what there really was different with his roommate.

Sighing lowly, he reached out, gripping lightly around Ichigo's healthy arm, and gave the kid a careful shake. "Oi, Berry. We're home, and I don' think ya wanna sleep in Starrk's car, yeah?"

Starrk blinked – once, twice, thrice, just to be sure **– **as he watched his childhood friend trying to wake Ichigo. Whilst he hadn't expected Grimmjow to just shake the kid awake in his normal, gruff demeanor – considering the kid had a broken arm, even Grimmjow wouldn't be that rough – he had at least expected Grimmjow to snap at him that he should wake up, and halfway drag him out of the car. Something that Grimmjow _normally_ would do.

Instead, Grimmjow was gentle, eyes having softened the minute they landed on Ichigo, and his voice was low, only for Ichigo to really hear, but Starrk _knew_ that he didn't just hear Grimmjow _try_ to be nice. There was actual, honest-to-god tenderness in his voice. Which so far, Starrk had only heard him use when it came to his little sister and niece.

Inside the car, Ichigo stirred, lids slitting open to look up at Grimmjow, his brows pulling tighter together in confusion. "Grimm?"

Blue brows raised by the shortening of his name, and after a small, internal battle, he chose to let it be. He called the kid Berry, after all, and that was way worse than Grimm, and at least it wasn't _Grimmy_. "Yeah, t's me. We're at the dorm, an' if ya don' wanna continue sleepin' in Starrk's car, ya better get out, 'cause I'm sure as hell ain't carryin' ya all tha way up."

Ichigo managed a smirk, as he tilted his head back. "What a gentleman," he mused, his smirk growing as the blue haired male rolled his eyes and undid Ichigo's seat belt, a motion surprising all three of them. "See, you don't have to pretend to be mean all the time," Ichigo grinned, feeling a odd – and highly annoying – fluttering in his chest by seeing the slight red color over Grimmjow's cheeks. "T's 'kay bein' nice once in a while when people's around too."

"Shut up, brat," Grimmjow muttered, the blush staying on his cheeks as he reached into the car and, as carefully as he could whilst avoiding the damaged arm, wrapped an arm around Ichigo's waist. He was close enough to hear Ichigo's breath hitch and see how he swallowed thickly. It made him pause a little, his grip around Ichigo tightening as he glanced up, immediately regretting his motioning when meeting those disturbingly warm amber eyes.

They stared at each other for long enough that Starrk started to wonder if he maybe should cough a little discretely, to remind them that despite what they might think, they really weren't alone in the universe. Though before he got time to actually act on it, Ichigo turned his head away, and now both males were carrying slight blushes.

Starrk had a sudden urge to just march up to the two and smash their heads together, because it was as clear as day that the only thing both of them wanted right then, were _each other_. Though he figured it to be good enough that Ichigo hooked his arm around Grimmjow's shoulder and allowed the slightly taller male to help him out of the car.

With those two, baby steps was probably the thing best suited.

"Ya know, I'm often nice," Grimmjow muttered. The comment was so out of the blue, that it was obvious to everyone that he only said it to dissipate the slightly awkward silence.

Ichigo smirked, shaking his had slightly. "I didn't mean it like that, idiot," he sighed, tilting his head to the side to look at Grimmjow, his eyes softening slightly as he looked at his still blushing and embarrassed roommate. "You've patched me up too many times for me to think of you being as cruel as you pretend to be," he paused slightly as Grimmjow glanced at him, desperately trying to read the emotions in Grimmjow's eyes, before he gave up and smiled weakly. "You just don't act nice when more than one person's around, though."

Starrk prepared for another, minute long staring between the two as their eyes once again locked, this time already having decided to cough to get their attention. Though, for probably the tenth time that morning, he was once again taken by sligh surprise. This time around they seem more comfortable with looking into each other's eyes, Grimmjow looking searchingly at Ichigo, before he sighed, a smirk twisting his lip upwards.

"Fuckin' hate how perceptive ya are," he mused, and slammed the car down shut. The grin over his lips took any menace out of his words. "Starrk've known me fer a long time. He knows I can act nice."

Ichigo hummed lowly as nodding, biting down lightly on his bottom lip as he glanced towards Starrk, an unreadable look in his eyes. Whatever he saw, Starrk wasn't sure, though the boy soon enough gave an absentminded nod, a weak, thankful-looking smile playing over his lips, before he turned back to Grimmjow.

"Are you going to help me up, or let me go and have me walk on my own?" Ichigo asked, his tone calm and typically conversing, even as his cheeks took on a even redder hue, and his grip around Grimmjow tightened almost unnoticeable.

A few, long moments passed, and then Grimmjow gave out a dark chuckle, and without further ado he bended down, hooked his arm under Ichigo's legs and lifted him up in bridal style. A extremely unmanly squeak escaped Ichigo, his eyes wide as he desperately clung onto Grimmjow with his healthy arm, the other pressed tightly to his chest.

"Imma help ya," Grimmjow mused, his voice low, husky and disturbingly dark, and if it wasn't for the fact that Grimmjow had nearly given him a heart attack by the sudden movement, Ichigo was sure that it would have caused him quite the little problem.

"You bastard!" Ichigo yelled, doing an odd kicking motion with his feet, before hitting Grimmjow over his shoulder. "You said you wouldn't carry me! And give me a goddamn freaking warning next time!"

"Next time, eh?" Grimmjow snickered. "Ya want me to hold ya more times, Berry?" he winked teasingly, grin widening until taking up almost his whole face. "An' I ain't gonna carry ya _all_ tha way."

"...bastard," Ichigo muttered, his face now being blood red as he quickly looked away, trying his best to avoid both Grimmjow and Starrk's eyes – the latter who was staring at them with something akin to shock and awe in his eyes. "Just... get me to the room, ne? I'm too tired to argue with you."

"Alright," Grimmjow agreed, the teasing, half-way-there cruel undertone disappearing almost by magic, to make him sound a lot more gentle and calmer. It did not help Starrk to recover from his state of shock. "Oi, Starrk, thanks fer drivin' us. I owe ya one."

"Ya owe me lots," Starrk mumbled absently, before waving his hand dismissively. "Don't mention it. Just rest and heal up alright, Kurosaki-san."

"Yeah, thanks," Ichigo grinned, his face still holding a unnaturally red color. "I owe you, too. Just... let me now if there's something you need."

"T's alright," Starrk nodded, watching with a small smile as Grimmjow gave him a nod that probably was suppose to be a goodbye, whilst Ichigo waved his fingers slightly.

As the two disappeared into the dorm, Ichigo still held securely in the bluenette's arms, Starrk was reminded of the worry he had seen in Grimmjow's eyes as he had looked at Ichigo mere minutes ago. It had been worry, tenderness, and something that was close to lust, but not really. Starrk wasn't stupid, he _knew_ what that look meant, but he also knew that this was something completely new for Grimmjow, and his younger friend surely had no idea at all what was going on in his head.

There was different levels of worry, in Starrk's opinion.

There was people you knew just a little, and if hearing about them getting hurt, you expressed worry, but you didn't think too much on it. Then there was worry for closer friends, where the worry was deeper, making people uncomfortable when thinking about their friends being hurt. Last, there was worry for loved ones – family, or friends being so close that they _felt_ like family. The kind of worry eating on one from the inside out, leaving anxiety behind and had people twitch and being unable to think about much else.

Starrk had made up that chart of worry a long time ago, after many people had called him coldhearted, as he didn't react or care much when hearing about distant friends getting hurt or being in trouble. It was too tiring and troublesome to worry about too many people, when there wasn't any point for it anyway.

Starrk had thought it was just the first degree of worry, when he had teased Grimmjow about it. Though when seeing Grimmjow being so careful and gentle with his roommate, he realized that he had been completely wrong. There was no mistaking _that_ look, a mix between how Grimmjow looked at his sister and niece, and how he watched someone he wanted to sleep with. And the way Ichigo acted around and looked at Grimmjow, made the brunette have confident that the tangerine haired kid held the same kind of feelings for his friend.

He wondered if Grimmjow even knew that he was acting differently with Ichigo, or if he just thought of the orange haired boy as another distant friend – or just roommate. Oh, he didn't doubt that Grimmjow had already figured out that he wanted to fuck Ichigo six ways to Sunday, he just had to wonder if Grimmjow himself realized that there actually was _more_ to it than that. Even the short moment Starrk had been around them, with no one else who had only just seen the rough version of Grimmjow being there to interfere, he had seen... not a completely _new_ side of Grimmjow, but definitely a rare one. It was a side he rarely even showed to his closest friends, but often held towards his remaining family, when believing no one to watch.

Tugging a hand through his hair, Starrk let out a deep sigh as he locked the car and then headed back to his own room. He _could_ get involved, but really – it was too troublesome. And it would probably just do more bad than good. Besides, as far as Starrk knew – and when it came to Grimmjow, he knew _a lot_ – Grimmjow was completely new to these kind of things. It was better if he just stayed out of it, and let the youngsters figure it out by themselves.

Not to mention, it would definitely be more entertaining that way.

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><p><strong>Author's ramble;<strong>_ Grimmjow carrying a blushing Berry bridal style is cute, end of story -holds hand up in dismissive motion- And I love writing Starrk, he's just such a thankful character to write. By the way, I wrote him in the first chapter too, how many figured it to be him? Raise yer hands, please._

_Also, how many people have figured out who Grimm's sister is, and how many dare to guess who the niece is? I love not writing characters names until later chapters, even if dropping lots of hints about who it is - myself, I love guessing who people are in stories, when slight descriptions and hints are given, so obviously I'll do it myself, too ^^_

_Third thing; **next chapter will be up within a week**. It will, however, be an extremly short chapter, more of a interlude, in lack of a better word. But, since you've been waiting rather long for this chapter, I'll give you a little award of sorts._

_That's all from me for the day. Please review, and I hoped ya enjoyed reading._


	5. Fear

**I do not own Bleach or the characters in anyway, I do, however, own the plot idea.**

**Full summary; **_Ichigo like to think of himself as a normal kid. He really does; he have wonderful sisters, a crazy father, great friends and he have just started going to University. A perfectly normal teenager. If completely ignoring the fact that every night he wakes up by Dreams and find himself sporting new bruises and wounds after having witnessed a accident or someone's death, that means. Being psychic might not be everyone's definition of normal, but it is to Ichigo._

**Warnings; **_Also a pretty low-rated chapter. Mentions of non-con and violence, nothing excplicit._

**Author's ramble;**_ This chapter ran away from me. Seriously, I had a whole other direction I wanted to take it, but I believe it knocked me out and wrote itself. Nevertheless, I like it. And I hope ya'll like it too, despite the shortness of it ^^ (even though it actually ended up _longer_ than I had planned, as it would just be an 'interlude'.)_

_Have anyone noticed that so far my chapter titles go A-C-A-C? Totally unintentionally. Before I noticed that, this chapter would also start with an 'A' x_. My concious and subconcious really aren't connecting very well as of late._

_Thanks to all those who reads, have reviewed and/or fav'd this story, you guys are all amazing._

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><p><em>...<em>

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><p>The bang on the door startled Ichigo enough that he jumped high in the air, cursing loudly as his elbow hit against the wall – and of course it just had to be his already damaged arm.<p>

"Fuckin' hell, Kurosaki!" Grimmjow snapped on the other side of the door, followed with another loud bang. "Can ya hurry tha fuck up? What take ya so fuckin' long?"

Only Grimmjow could curse so much in the morning. Well, that probably wasn't true, but having lived with Grimmjow for as long as he had (and at times, three months felt like _forever_) he would always be amazed with how short the blue haired male's temper was in the morning. And it was already short enough during the day, when he had been awake long enough and gotten some coffee in him to have him act like a – relatively – normal human. Oddly enough, Ichigo had come to realize that the only time Grimmjow seemed to have some patience whatsoever, was in the middle of the night whenever Grimmjow would care for his wounds. Which, to him made no sense; weren't people supposed to be even more pissed off by being awoke in the dead of night?

"Calm down!" Ichigo snapped back, full of frustration as he tugged a hand through his hair, before glaring down at his pants. "_You_ try getting a belt on with a fractured arm!"

There was a small pause, and then the door handle started to wriggle with full force, as if Grimmjow was seriously trying to tear the door clean off its hinges, immediately having the hair at the back of Ichigo's neck stand up. Ichigo knew how strong Grimmjow was, and it sure as hell wouldn't surprise him if the door actually came flying off.

"Ya need to fuckin' occupy the bathroom to get yer _belt_ on?"

Ichigo cringed. He could understand how _that_ pissed Grimmjow off. Before, they had have a nice enough routine; Ichigo always woke up first, showering and getting dressed whilst Grimmjow slowly returned back to the living. Then he would get out and grab something to eat, packing the things for the day down into his shoulder bag, and around that time Grimmjow would be done in the bathroom, allowing Ichigo to go brush his teeth before leaving.

They still hadn't found a decent routine after Ichigo had hurt his arm. Most everything took much longer for him, as his arm was cast in a awkward angle that kept it in a bended up position, pressing against his chest, which allowed him to use just one hand for everything else. Pulling his shirt and pants up was trouble enough, actually trying to get the fly up and button done, along with fastening his belt, was close to impossible. And, as previously stated; Grimmjow was far from friendly in the morning. Especially when a orange haired menace hogged the bathroom and he _seriously_ needed to piss.

"I'm trying to button my pants too," Ichigo added lamely, once again cringing as Grimmjow slammed his palm against the door. Clearly, the excuse was not good enough for his roommate.

A low hiss of "_fuck this_" was heard from the other side of the door as the tries to tear the door off stopped, and Ichigo let out a sigh of relief as he hurried with fixing his pants up. They had been doing so good until recently, actually entering into the friend territory rather than just roommates, but with their constant morning drama, Ichigo feared that they would drop right down to enemies instead. Considering how badly Grimmjow affected him, he should be thankful for a reason to stay away from the bluenette, but then there was that annoying truth that he just didn't want to stay away from his roommate.

He was torn from his thoughts, and rather ridiculous tries to fix his pants up, when the door was torn open. Spinning around, Ichigo for a brief instant believed for Grimmjow to actually have pulled the door free, and the relief of seeing the door still being where it was supposed to be was short lived as he caught sight of Grimmjow's eyes.

_That_ was a new look.

At least directed towards Ichigo – he had seen that look many times in his Sights, but hadn't believed that he would ever give Grimmjow a reason to focus those stormy, darkened eyes filled with fury at _him_. The terror making his heart beat around a million times faster was easy for him to understand, as Grimmjow glared at him with narrowed eyes; the arousal spiking through him and making him weak in his knees took him completely by surprise, however.

Without a word, Grimmjow threw something long, black and stick-like into the sink before grabbing onto Ichigo's arm and yanked him out of the bathroom, the door slamming shut the second Ichigo was free from being slammed in the face by it.

Wide eyed, Ichigo stared down at the ground, slightly hunched over and immobile by the shock of both Grimmjow's anger, and the way it had affected him. How sick was he, really, to feel even _more_ attracted to Grimmjow than he already was, because the man looked close to murder? Ichigo knew he was strange – what went on with his head and body wasn't exactly _normal_ – but he hadn't thought he was strange in that way either. Or was it just because he, as of lately, seemed unable to keep himself from staring at Grimmjow – for no reason at all, other that the other man was _there_ – that some emotion (violent or not) in those azure eyes affected him that badly?

Once again, all his thoughts came to a dead end as he heard the toilet flush, and just a short span of time later Grimmjow pulled the door open – still violently, but not as forceful as before. His eyes, still darker than normal, filled with a storm of anger, settled on Ichigo. A second later the blue eyes widened, and Grimmjow took a step back, mouth opening and closing as if trying to come up with anything to say, but failing miserably.

Ichigo had no idea how he looked; face disturbingly pale, amber eyes wide and filled with fear and surprise, still hunched over and looking to be prepared to run for his life any second as he stared at Grimmjow. In Grimmjow's eyes, his younger friend looked like a baby bird prepared to be eaten whole by a vicious snake.

Forcing his fingers through his hair, Grimmjow cursed inwardly, unable to look away from those brown eyes that just screamed out fear. He could see the surprise in them too, but that didn't fully register with him, all he could think on was that those eyes, that no matter what had always held a warm and gentle amber hue, was for the first time deprived of any warmth, and only showing emotion he didn't want to see in Ichigo when his roommate – friend? – looked at him.

"Sorry," Grimmjow mumbled, awkwardly looking away as he ran his fingers through his hair again. Still unstyled, it hung down into his eyes, though it was more a nervous movement than a try to get the strands out of his face, not knowing what to do with his hands. "I..." he silenced down as glancing back at Ichigo, the boy not having moved, and he bit down hard on his bottom lip. "Um... here, lemme..."

He trailed off once again as he took a step closer to Ichigo, relieved that his roommate didn't back away, and he braved up enough to walk even closer. Not until he stood right in front of Ichigo did the boy move, forced to straightening up if wanting to see Grimmjow's face.

It felt like a slap when seeing the nervousness in Ichigo's eyes, and knowing that he was the cause for it – and since when had he worried about _that_? He had have Nnoitra – who barely feared anything – look at him in almost the same way, and he hadn't cared too much, despite the man being his best friend. Seeing Ichigo look at him that way, though... he just didn't like it. It didn't seem right. Not when Ichigo would always look so calm, and take most everything with stride or just look amused when anyone tried to mess with him. He hadn't thought that Ichigo of all people would be afraid of him.

Grimmjow swallowed thickly, averting his gaze away from Ichigo, staring down at the floor between them for a long, tense moment, before moving his hands forward. He had expected his movement to make everything even more tense and awkward, though as his fingers moved to Ichigo's pants, catching a hint of dark gray beneath the tight denim before he tugged the zipper up, Ichigo's only reaction was to let out a sharp gasp and grip onto his arm.

It got more tense, but not exactly awkward, there was a completely different emotion floating around thickly between them, and – suddenly wondering when he became such a coward – Grimmjow slowly dared to raise his gaze to look into Ichigo's eyes again. They were still wide, nervousness hinting in them, but at least he didn't look _scared_ anymore. Nor were they their normal amber brown color just yet, or the strange, golden like undertone that took over his eyes at times, instead they were more... he wondered if something like molten amber existed, and if that was the case, it was exactly how he would have described Ichigo's eyes right then.

Dark, molten amber, twirling with an emotion he wasn't sure that he liked or had him worried, or if he even deserved that look from Ichigo. It might have been a mix of all three.

He licked his lips, tearing his gaze from Ichigo once again as he quickly buttoned Ichigo's pants, and made a quick job with the belt. That had felt entirely too intimate, considering he was helping Ichigo getting dressed, rather than removing clothing.

_Was that even normal_?

"Sorry," Grimmjow repeated, surprising himself with how sincere that small little word could sound, arms hanging awkwardly by his sides. "I didn't mean too..."

_Scare you_. _Make you fear me_. _Be like Him_.

_That_ came as hard packed punch. He had known it subconsciously, but he hadn't let the thought resurface fully.

_Shit_. Grimmjow shut his eyes, trying to keep his face relaxed so to not worry Ichigo, even as he just wanted to scrunch it up and hide away in bed, like a little coward.

He really was just like him, wasn't he? All the times his mother said he looked just like him, Grimmjow had been scared that he would end up just like him too. He knew he had a short temper, knew that he exploded all too easily, and could become slightly sadistic in his way of thinking if people went after his loved ones. Grimmjow had known since an early age that he was all too much like that man, sharing his personality almost down to the T.

He had always feared that part of him. Because it was evidence that no matter how hard he tried, he would end up just as the person calling him his father. It was why he stayed away from any kind of romantic relationship, because how could he know if he would end up beating and raping his wife, with his kids still in the room, and then give them a beating too – or, against all hope, he would manage to just remain a normal man?

Grimmjow didn't dare to take that chance. He didn't want anyone else going through the trauma his sister had to live through, didn't want anyone to suffer any more because of _him _than they already had. He had thought he had done good in his life so far, all things considered, but then seeing that look in Ichigo's eyes...

He couldn't help himself. It was one of those moments when he realized just how alike his so-called father he was, and, honestly, there wasn't any hope for him.

_Shit_. Ichigo had just been in the bathroom a bit too long – never mind that his bladder was on it's way to burst – but he had exploded with anger nonetheless, completely overreacting for such a _stupid stupid stupid_ reason.

"Grimmjow."

His eyes flew open, staring down at Ichigo's bowed head, the vibrant orange locks for once not making him think of oranges – only the word _safety _fluttered by his mind – as he stared down at his friend. He had been too gone in his own thoughts, in his pathetic self-pity to even realize that Ichigo's hand had left his arm, to instead keep a firm grip on his shirt. Neither had he realized that his breathing had grown increasingly heavier, more forced, until it sounded as if he was hyperventilating.

Staring down at the orange – _safe –_ color, Grimmjow forced himself to relax, unable to stop himself from wondering how he could have gotten so close to a breakdown so easily, when most times he manged to just push those kind of thoughts aside.

The sight of amber eyes wide in fear fluttered by his vision, and he realized that it wasn't that strange after all. Whatever it meant, just as he didn't want his sister to look at him that way, he didn't want Ichigo to do it either – and he definitely didn't hold any sibling-like emotion towards the boy in front of him.

"You're not like him," Ichigo said quietly.

It took a while for the words to sink in, and then Grimmjow's eyes widened, and he tried to take a step back, away from his friend, just to be kept back, the grip on his shirt unrelenting. He could have torn away, if he really wanted, but Ichigo clearly proved that he wanted him to remain. Even if being scared of him, he didn't want Grimmjow to move away.

It was, to him, a completely unreasonable thought, considering that their relationship – their _friendship_ – had been nothing like that, yet he couldn't help but to think; _was that how mom felt about Him_?

"You're _nothing_ like him," Ichigo continued, his voice sounding close to desperate, searching for the right words to make Grimmjow _understand_. "You're- you're kind, gentle... You're a great guy, Grimm. Nothing... nothing like your father. Never think- never _believe _that."

Grimmjow couldn't do much else than continuing to stare down at Ichigo, desperately wondering who had told him. His past wasn't something he liked to share, close to no one that wasn't part of his childhood one way or another knew about his family. He hadn't realized until then that he didn't want Ichigo to ever hear about it. Maybe it was because he hated feeling pitied, or because he didn't want for the orangenette to somewhere, subconsciously, wonder if Grimmjow would end up just as his old man. He just couldn't fully understand why it scared him so much that Ichigo would think it, when he didn't give a shit what Starrk, Nnoitra and his other friends really thought about it.

"I-Ichigo," Grimmjow lowered his head, wishing that Ichigo could look up, just so he would see if they was a warm amber hue again. It didn't matter which color they were or what emotion they held, as long as it wasn't fear towards him. Hell, he would even take the odd gold, rather than have the orange haired teen look scared like that because of him. "Who-"

"Don't," Ichigo interrupted, pressing his forehead against Grimmjow's chest. "Please just... don't. Don't ask. Not right now."

Grimmjow closed his eyes, a weak smile tugging his lip as he resigned to the fact that it was just one more of those strange things going on with Ichigo. Why exactly it made some strange kind of sense, and even brought him a odd feeling of comfort, he didn't know, but it didn't really matter, because Ichigo was close to him, leaning against him – and he wouldn't have done that out of his own free will if being scared of him, would he?

_Your mom did_.

He really wished that little voice in his head could be quiet, before any hope that he wasn't like his father would be completely erased.

Carefully, he moved his hand up, running his fingers through soft orange spikes, and tugged on them. A light touch, but with enough pressure that Ichigo took the hint and tilted his head back. He slowly opened his eyes as looking down at Ichigo, letting out a breath of air he hadn't been aware he held back as looking into Ichigo's eyes.

It was the normal brown color, filled with worry, care and something that probably would come close to pity, but didn't make Grimmjow feel patronized. Perhaps it was because Ichigo didn't look at him as he was a pitiful fool, but just as he felt sorry for him. It was difficult to make sense out of, but then again, everything with Ichigo was. The only thing that really mattered was that amidst all those other emotions, he couldn't find the smallest hint of fear.

He wasn't sure exactly what he was thinking as he pulled Ichigo back to his chest, his other arm coming up to move around Ichigo's shoulders, even if the closeness between them already terrified him slightly. Though Ichigo just relaxed against him, almost immediately, and even moved his arm around Grimmjow's waist to answer the embrace, his breath hot against Grimmjow's chest.

The feel of Ichigo's lips and breath so close to his body was sending pleasant shivers down his spine, and he couldn't stop himself from pulling Ichigo even closer as ducking his head down. Standing like that, the young teen close to his body, and with his face buried deep in orange colored hair that smelt faintly of vanilla and coconut, Grimmjow slowly realized that he wouldn't mind staying like that for the rest of the day.

He wasn't sure exactly what category Ichigo ended up in, but standing like that... it was nice. And he was too exhausted to consider what all of it even meant.

It didn't need to end up sexual, or for them to even _say_ anything. Not right then. The feeling of being _content_ that he had gotten in the waiting room when Ichigo was sleeping against him hit him with full force again, only it was a lot stronger, shutting out anything else, and having him just focus on how nicely the younger teen fitted in his arms.

Something was definitely going on, and Grimmjow wasn't sure if he should run from whatever it was, or stay and see what wold happen. For the moment, though, clinging onto Ichigo seemed like the only reasonable thing to do.

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><p>...<p>

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><p><strong>Author's ramble;<strong>_ -cough- Yeah, Grimmjow's a messed up little guy. He hate his childhood to the degree that he at most times have managed to tell himself that it didn't happen, and unless something extrem happens (or, just managing with scaring a guy who he's veryyy confused about) it, to him, _just haven't happened_. This subject will be touched more upon in later chapters._

_Idk if people will think of Grimmjow acting OOC in this chapter, by clinging onto Ichi like that, but think about it; he had a near breakdown, and then Ichigo (that he believe is scared of him) tells him the one thing he wants to hear. It makes sense to me that he'd end up clinging onto the Berry. Then again, I'm the author, so maybe that's why it makes sense to me xD_

_Another thing, I'm not gonna give any more promises about how soon chapters are out. It's not often I will get them out within a week, and I don't wanna give promises I can't keep. Though I will try to get them out within a month's time at most, unless otherwise specified._


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